"Thank goodness, Daddy's out!" said the soaked one, returning knee-deep
in the water to try and cleanse herself as much as might be--which was
no great amount, for lagoon mud defies ordinary efforts. She waded out,
still laughing; cast an apprehensive glance at the quarter from which
her father might be expected to return, and set out on her journey to
the house, the water squelching dismally in her boots at every step.
In the garden at Billabong walked a slim youth in most correct attire.
His exquisitely tailored suit of palest grey flannel was set off by a
lavender-striped shirt, with a tie that matched the stripe. Patent
leather shoes with wide ribbon bows shod him; above them, and below the
turned-up trousers, lavender silk socks with purple circles made a very
glory of his ankles. On his sleek head he balanced a straw hat with an
infinitesimal brim, a crown tall enough to resemble a monument, and a
very wide hat band. His pale, well-featured face betrayed unuttered
depths of boredom.
The click of the gate made him turn. Coming up the path was a figure
that might have been plaintive but that Norah was so immensely amused
at herself; and the stranger opened his pale eyes widely, for such
apparitions had not come his way. She did not see him for a moment.
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