"Told him you were working like a cart-horse, which
was no more than the truth, and that Tommy was serving her adopted
country as a cook; and that I considered your prospects good. He'll have
had that letter before now--and I suppose others from you."
"We wrote a few weeks ago--sent him a photograph of the house, and
of Tommy on a horse, and Tommy told him all about our furniture," Bob
chuckled. "I don't quite know how a staid old London lawyer will regard
the furniture; he won't understand its beauty a bit. But he ought to be
impressed with our stern regard for economy."
"He should," said Mr. Linton with a twinkle. "And I presume you
mentioned the sheep?"
"As a matter of fact," said Tommy confidentially, "his letter was little
but mutton. He described all his ewes in detail--"
"Colour of their eyes?" queried Wally.
"And their hair," nodded Tommy. "I never read anything so poetical. And
any enthusiasm he had over went to the pigs and the Kelpie pup!"
"But what about the cows?" laughed Norah. "And the young bullocks?"
"Oh, he mentioned them. But cattle are just four-legged animals to
Bob; they don't stir his soul like sheep and pigs. He couldn't write
beautiful things about them. But when it comes to sheep, he just
naturally turns into a poet!"
The object of these remarks helped himself serenely to cake.
"Go on," he nodded at his sister cheerfully.
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