n fact,
still purring--over that home-made furniture, and declared it superior
to any that money could buy. She had also suggested new ideas for
shelves.

They had not troubled furniture shops much. Save for a few comfortable
arm-chairs, there was nothing solid and heavy in the house; but it was
all pleasant and home-like, and the little rooms, bright with books
and pictures and flowers, had about them the touch of welcome and
restfulness that makes the difference between a home and a mere house.
The kitchen was Tommy's especial pride--it was cool and spotless, with
fresh-painted walls and ceilings, and shining white tiles round the
white sink--over which Wally's draining-rack sat in glory. Dazzling
tin-ware decorated the walls, and the dresser held fresh and pretty
china. For weeks it had been a point of honour for no one to visit
Cunjee without bringing Tommy a gift for the kitchen--meat fork, a set
of skewers, a tin pepper castor; offerings wrapped in many coverings of
tissue paper, and presented with great solemnity, generally at dinner.
The last parcel had been from Mr. Linton, and had eclipsed all the
others--an alarum clock, warranted to drive the soundest sleeper from
her bed. Bob declared it specially designed to ensure his getting fed at
something approaching a reasonable hour.

A wide verandah ran round the whole house, and rush lounges and deck
chairs stood about invitingly--Tommy had insisted that there should
be plenty of seating accommodation on the verandah for all the Linton
party, since they filled the little rooms to an alarming extent.
Near where they stood the drawing-room opened out by a French window.
Something caught Tommy's eye, and she dived into the room--to return,
laughing with new treasure-trove--a sink brush and saucepan-scrubber,
tied up with blue ribbon.

"Your doing?" she asked, brandishing them.

"Not mine." Wally shook his head. "I don't do frivolous things like
that. But I heard Jim wheedling blue ribbon out of Norah this morning,
and I don't fancy he has much use for it ordinarily. You'd better ask
him."

"It's like both of you--you nice stupids!" she said.

"What?--the pot-scrub! That's not polite of you, Miss Rainham; and so
untrue, where I'm concerned." Wally sat down on the arm of a lounge and
regarded her with a twinkle. "What's old Bob doing?"

Tommy laughed happily.

"I think whenever we don't know where Bob is, he's safe to be out
looking at either the sheep or th