and it's full of history,
and we all love it for that. But it isn't our own country. The
people are different--more reserved, and stiffer. But it isn't even
that. I don't know," said Norah, getting tangled--"I think it's the
air, and the space, and the freedom that we're used to, and we miss
them all the time. And the jolly country life----"

"But English country life is jolly."

"I think we'd get tired of it," said Norah. "It seems to us all play:
and in Australia, we work. Even if you go out for a ride there, most
likely there is a job hanging to it--to bring in cattle, or count
them, or see that a fence is all right, or to bring home the mail.
Every one is busy, and the life all round is interesting. I don't
think I explain at all well; I expect the real explanation is just
that the love for one's own country is in one's bones!"

"Quite!" said Mrs. West. "Quite!" But she said the ridiculous word
as though for once she understood, and there was a comfortable little
silence between them for a few minutes. Then the men came in, and the
evening went by quickly enough with games and music. Captain Garrett
proved to be the possessor of a very fair tenor, together with a knack
of vamping not unmelodious accompaniments. The cheery songs floated
out into the hall, where Bride and Katty crouched behind a screen,
torn between delight and nervousness.

"If the Ould Thing was to come she'd have the hair torn off of us,"
breathed Katty. "But 'tis worth the rishk. Blessed Hour, haven't he
the lovely voice?"

"He have--but I'd rather listen to Miss Norah," said Bride loyally.
"'Tisn't the big voice she do be having, but it's that
happy-sounding."

It was after ten o'clock when Norah, having said good-night to her
guests and shown Mrs. West to her room, went softly along the
corridor. A light showed under Miss de Lisle's doorway, and she
tapped gently.

The door opened, revealing the cook-lady's comfortable little
sitting-room, with a fire burning merrily in the grate. The cook-lady
herself was an extraordinarily altered being, in a pale-blue kimono
with heavy white embroidery.

"I hoped you would come," she said. "Are you tired? Poor child, what
an evening! I wonder would you have a cup of cocoa with me here? I
have it ready."

She waved a large hand towards a fat brown jug standing on a trivet by
the grate. There was a tray on a little table, bearing cups and
saucers and a spongecake. Norah gave