Page 203 - A Little Bush Maid

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They were all sitting on the lawn in the twilight.

Norah had dispensed afternoon tea with laborious energy, ably seconded by

Dick, who carried cups and cake, and made himself generally useful. Then
they had talked until the sun slipped over the edge of the plain. There was
so much to talk of in those days.

The Hermit had been allowed to leave his room a fortnight since. He was

still weak, but strength was coming every day--strength that follows on
happiness. Norah declared he grew better every day and no one
contradicted her.

He and his wife sat hand in hand. They were rarely seen any other

way--perfect content on each placid face. Dick lay on the grass at their feet
and smoked, and threw stems of buffalo grass at Norah, who returned them
honourably. Mr. Linton, also smoking, surveyed the group with

satisfaction.

They had been talking over plans for the future, plans which Mr. Linton’s
masterfulness modified very considerably.

"Go away?" he said. "Certainly not! T’ve engaged your son as tutor to my
daughter, and T really can’t spare him from the poor neglected child! Then,

as you, curiously enough, don’t wish to leave your son, the course is quite
clear--you must stay here."

"T’m not going to live on you, Davy."

"You needn’t. T’m bitterly in need of someone with a head for figures--a
thing T never possessed. You can help me tremendously. And, good as dear
old Brownie is, T know Norah ought to be with a gentlewoman--to learn the

things that aren’t in school books. Tt’s the best chance you and T have ever