CHAPTER VII

MORNING That loving Laughing Land, where life is fresh and clean, Where the rivers flow all summer, and the grass is always green. —_Henry Lawson._ “NORAH!” “James?” said Norah, with polite inquiry. She paused with Jean, and turned a questioning eye towards the window whence Jim’s voice had reached her. Jim, in his shirt sleeves, his face obscured by lather, looked out, razor in hand. “Don’t go over to the stable just now, if that’s where you two are going,” …