The doctor heaved a sigh of relief when the business was
done. So they took him home, the grey horses pulled into a slow walk,
while Jim and Norah rode ahead to find the smoothest track.
It was past midnight when the lights of the homestead came into view;
but everywhere Billabong was up. The men were round the open gate of
the yard, from Andy Ferguson, the tears running unheeded down his old
face, to Lee Wing, for once without his wide benevolent smile, and in
the background Lal Chunder's dark face. Beyond them was Mrs. Brown,
with the pale-faced girls behind her. There were a score of willing
hands to bring David Linton into his home.
A little later Jim came out to where Norah waited in the hall, a little
huddled figure in one corner of a leather armchair.
"He's quite comfortable," he said; "hasn't spoken, but the doctor says
it's a natural sleep, and Brownie and he are going to sit with him. Old
kiddie, are you awfully tired?"
"I'm not tired one bit!" said Norah, with no idea that she was not
speaking the exact truth.
"H'm!" said Jim, looking at her. He went into the dining-room,
returning a minute later with a glass of wine.
"You're to have this," he said authoritatively, "and then I'm going to
put you to--"
He broke off, looking at her with a little smile on his tired face.
Pages:
264
265
266
267
268
269
270
271
272
273
274
275
276
277
278
279
280
281
282
283
284
285
286
287
288