"Uncle David asked me to find you. Fed
the--ah--poultry, Norah?"
"Yes, thank you," said that damsel.
"Awfully uninteresting things, fowls," said Cecil, turning and walking
back with them. "Noisy and dirty--I can't imagine you bothering your
head over them."
"They're not dirty when they're kept properly," Norah said, a little
warmly. "And I don't think any animal's uninteresting if you look after
it yourself. Of course, if you do nothing more than eat them--"
"I assure you that's all I care to do!" said Cecil. At this point, they
arrived at the door of the office, which was perhaps as well, and found
Mr. Linton half submerged in a sea of stock returns, books, and
bill-files.
"Oh, here you are," he said, smoothing the furrows out of his brow to
smile at Norah. "I had an idea I sent you for the others some time ago,
Jim."
Jim looked somewhat sheepish.
"Yes." He admitted, laughing. "Fact is, I--I got into a kerosene tin!"
He glanced at his left leg expressively.
"I see," said his father, with a smile. "Well, I don't know that it
matters--only a note has just come out from Anderson, and his chauffeur
is waiting for an answer. It seems Cunjee is playing Mulgoa in a great
cricket match on Thursday, and they're short of men. They want to know
if they can recruit from Billabong.
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