u think?" he said. "I don't want Stella
to be waiting long."

"Very soon," said Mr. Linton. "Just a little more country air. The
chauffeur has his orders: I won't keep you much longer."

He racked his brains anxiously for a moment, and then plunged into a
story of Australia--a story in which bushrangers, blacks and bushfires
mingled so amazingly that it was impossible not to listen to it.
Having once secured his hapless guest's attention, he managed to leave
the agony of invention and to slide gracefully to cattle-mustering,
about which it was not necessary to invent anything. Major Hunt
became interested, and asked a few questions; and they were deep in a
comparison of the ways of handling cattle on an Australian run and a
Texan ranch, when the car suddenly turned in at a pair of big iron
gates and whirled up a drive fringed with trees. Major Hunt broke off
in the middle of a sentence.

"Hallo! Where are we going?"

"I have to stop at a house here for an instant," said Mr. Linton.
"Just a moment; I won't keep you."

Major Hunt frowned. He was tired; the car was wonderfully
comfortable, but the rush through the keen air was wearying to a
semi-invalid, and he was conscious of a feeling of suppressed
irritation. He wanted to be home. The thought of the hard little
sofa in the London flat suddenly became tempting--he could lie there
and talk to the children, and watch Stella moving about. Now they
were miles into the country--long miles that must be covered again
before he was back in Bloomsbury. He bit his lips to restrain words
that might not seem courteous.

"I should really be very grateful if----"

He stopped. The car had turned into a side-avenue--he caught a
glimpse of a big, many-gabled house away to the right. Then they
turned a corner, and the car came to a standstill with her bonnet
almost poking into a great clump of rhododendrons. There was a
thatched cottage beside them. And round the corner tore a small boy
in a sailor suit, with his face alight with a very ecstasy of welcome.

"Daddy! Oh, Daddy!"

"Geoff!" said Major Hunt amazedly. "But how?--I don't understand."

There were other people coming round the corner: his wife, tall and
slender, with her eyes shining; behind her, Norah Linton, with Alison
trotting beside her, and Michael perched on one shoulder. At sight of
his father Michael drummed with his heels to Norah's great discomfort,
and uttered shrill squeaks of joy.

"