Norah
hovered round, deeply concerned. Pastry dough, however, is a clinging
and a greasy product, and finally the wrathful lecturer beat a retreat
towards the sanctuary of his own room, and the cook sat down and shook
with laughter.
"My cake!" she gasped, in the midst of her mirth. She flew to the oven
and rescued Jim's delicacy.
"Thank goodness, it's all right!" said she. Her mirth broke out afresh.
A shadow darkened the doorway.
"What--cooking and in hysterics?" said Mr. Linton. "May I have some tea?
And what's the matter?"
"Cecil's begun the reforming process," said his daughter, becoming
solemn with difficulty. "You've no idea how improved I am, Daddy! He
seems to be certain that I'm not a lady, and he's very doubtful if I'm
a cook, so could you tell me what I'm likely to be?"
"A better all-round man than Cecil, I should hope," said David Linton,
with a sound like a snort of wrath. "Give me some tea, mate, and don't
bother your head about the future. Your old Dad's not scared!"
CHAPTER VI
COMING HOME
The top of my desire
Is just to meet a mate o' mine.
HENRY LAWSON.
It had suddenly become hot--"truly Christmas" weather, Norah called it,
as she stood waiting on the Cunjee platform for a train which, in
accordance with all railway traditions at Christmas, was already over
an hour late.
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