 20. All clear. Kitty, are you awake? Come in, Jimmy. Nora set up in bed and fell for the electric switch. The room sprang into light as Jim came in. I had to come and bring you a stocking, he said. Merry Christmas, little chap! Merry Christmas, Jimmy dear! Nora looked at the bulging stocking on her bed and broke into laughter. And you, a full-blown captain! Oh, Jimmy, are you ever going to grow up? I trust not, said Jim comfortably, if it means getting any bigger than I am. But you're not either, so it doesn't matter. Do you remember all the Christmases at Billabong when I had to bring you your stocking? Do I remember, echoed Nora scornfully, but at Billabong it was daylight at four o'clock in the morning and extremely hot, probably with a bush fire or two thrown in. You'll be frozen to death here. Turn on the electric stove and we'll be comfy. That's a brainwave, said Jim, complying. I must admit, I prefer an open fireplace and three-foot logs, but in a hurry those little contraptions of stoves are handy. Hold on now, I'll get you something to put over your shoulders. There's a wooly jacket over there, Nora said. Let me have my property. I'm excited. She possessed herself of the stocking and fished for its contents. Chocolates, and in wartime, aren't you ashamed? Not much, said Jim calmly, extracting a huge chocolate from the box. I lived on sweet turnips for six weeks, so I think the family deserves a few extras. Fish some more. Nora obeyed and brought to light articles of a varied nature, a pair of silk stockings, a book on housekeeping as a science, a large turnip artistically carved, a box of French candied fruit, a mop cap, and a pair of housemaid's gloves, and, lastly, the cap of a shell, neatly made into a pintre. I did that in camp in Germany, said Jim, and I swore I put it into your Christmas stocking, which I have done. Bless you, said Nora. I would rather lose a good many of my possessions than that. They smiled at each other, and, being an undemonstrative pair, the smile was a caress. Isn't this going to be a Christmas? Nora said. I've been lying awake for ever so long, trying to realise it. You alive again. I never was dead, said Jim, indignantly. It was a horribly good imitation, and Wally here, and even Harry, had made your hunt home, and Jeff getting stronger every day, and that grown twenty years younger. And you too, I guess, judging by what you looked like the night I came home. Oh, I've got turn that made up to look like new, said Nora. She faltered a little. Jimmy, I've been saying my prayers hard. I've done that too, said Jim. There was a long contented silence. And somehow, now, I know you'll be all right. Both of you, Nora said. I just feel certain about it. Before, ever since the war began, I was always horribly afraid, but now I'm not afraid anymore. It can't last forever, and some day will all go back. And that will be the best thing in the world, said Jim. The very best, she said. Someone tapped at the door. May I come in? asked Miss Delisle's voice. She entered, bearing a little tray. You, said Nora, but you shouldn't. Bright and catty have gone to church, so I thought I'd bring you some tea and wish you a merry Christmas, said Miss Delisle. But I didn't expect to find the captain here. She did not wait for their greetings, but vanished with the Elephantine swiftness peculiar to her, returning in a few moments with a second tray. And toast, said Jim. But where's your own, Miss Delisle? Never mind, mine, I'll have it in the kitchen, said the cook lady. Indeed you will not, sit down. He marched off, unheeding her protests. When he returned he bore a large kitchen tray with a teapot. It seemed simpler, he said, and I couldn't find anything smaller. This cup is large, Miss Delisle, but then you won't want it filled so often. Half some of my toast, I couldn't possibly eat all this. Well, it's very pleasant here, said the cook lady, yielding meekly. I took some to Mr. Wally, but he merely said, Get out, Judkins, I'm not on duty, and rolled over, so I concluded, in Cady's words, that his rest was more to him, and came away. He'll wake up presently, and be very pleased to find it. It won't matter to him at all if it's stone cold, said Jim. Queer chap, Wal, I prefer tea with a chill off it myself. Judkins has hard times getting him up in time for early parade. Luckily, Judkins is an old regular soldier, and has a stern calm way with a young officer. Who bullies you into getting up, may I ask, demanded Miss Delisle. I used to be bullied by a gentleman called Wilkes, in the grey days when I was a sub-altern, said Jim sadly. Now, Allah, I am a responsible and dignified person, and I have to set an example. He saw it. It's awful to be a captain. It's so extraordinary, said his sister, that I never get used to it. But you never had any respect for age, said Jim, removing her tray and putting a pillow on her head. Everyone finished. Then I'll clear away the rack and go and dress. He piled the three trays on top of each other, and goose stepped from the room solemnly. His long legs and pajamas, under a military great coat, ending a curious effect to the spectacle. Miss Delisle and Nora laughed helplessly. And a captain, said the cook lady, wiping her eyes. Now I really must run, or there will be no breakfast in this house. Breakfast was a movable fest in the home for tired people, who wandered in and out, just as they felt inclined. Hot dishes sat on a hot water plate, and a little aluminium top table. Such matters as ham and brown lurked on a sideboard, and aluminium came in from time to time to replenish tea and coffee. Nora and her father barely encountered anyone but Phil Hardress at this meal, since theirs was generally over, long before most of their guests had decided to get up. On this morning, however, everyone was equally late, and food did not seem to matter. The table was snowed under with masses of letters and Christmas parcels, and as everyone opened days and talked all at once, mingling greetings with exclamations over the contents of the packages, Miss Delisle's efforts had been in vain. I pitied your post, lady, said Mrs. Eggman, the wife of a wounded colonel. She staggered to the door under an enormous mail-bag, looking as though Christmas were anything but merry. However, I saw her departing after an interval, with quite a sprightly step. Alan B. had orders to look after her, Nora said, smiling. Poor soul, she begins her round at some unearthly hour, and she's hungry and tired by the time she gets here. One of the remarkable things about this country of yours, said Mr. Linton, is the way you have continued to deliver parcels and letters as though there were no war. Strange females or gone children bring them to one's door, but the main point is that they do come. In Australia, even without a war, the post office scorns to deliver a parcel. If anyone is rash enough to send you one, the post office puts it in a cupboard, and sends you a cold postcard to tell you to come and take it away. If you don't come soon, they send you a threatening card. And if you don't obey that? I never dare to risk a third, said Mr. Linton, laughing. I am a man of peace. But what a horrible system, said Mrs. Aikman. Doesn't it interfere with business? Oh yes, greatly, said her host, but I suppose we shall learn in time. I'm going over to the cottage, Nora whispered to Jim. Do come, Jeff won't think it's Christmas if you don't. They went out into the hall. Flying feet came down the stairs, and wooly was upon them. Merry Christmas, Nora! He seized both her hands and pranced her down the hall. Always begin Christmas with a turkey trot, he chanted. Begin indeed, said Nora, with a fine contempt. I began mine hours ago. Where have you been? I have been contemplating, said Wally, his brown eyes twinkling. No one called me. There's evidence to the contrary, Jim said, grinning. It has been stated that you called a perfectly blameless lady, Jotkins, and said awful things to her. My aunt, said Wally, I hope not, unless you talk pretty straight to Jotkins, he doesn't notice you. That accounts for the frozen tea and toast I found. I thought Father Christmas had put them there. Did you eat them? Oh yes, you should never snub a saint, said Wally. So now I don't want any breakfast. Where are you two going? To the cottage. Come along. But really, I do think you should eat the decent breakfast, Wally. It will be dinner time before we know where we are, and I feel that Mr. Lyle's dinner will be no joke, said Wally. So come along, old house-mother, and don't worry your ancient head about me. Each boy seized one of Nora's hands, and they raced across the lawn. David Linton, looking at them from the dining-room window, laughed a little. Bless them, they're all babies again, he thought. The cottage was echoing with strange sounds. It might be a third that the stockings of the young hunts had contained only boogles, trumpets, and drums. Eva, sweeping the porch, grated the news-comers with a friendly grin. Merry Christmas, Eva. The same to you, Sarifa, ended a real cold morning. The frost got me fingers a fair treat. No one minds frost on Christmas Day, is the proper thing in this queer country, said Wally. Was Father Christmas good to you, Eva? Wasn't he? Not half, Sarifa. The children wouldn't hear of anything but hanging up a stocking for me, and I'm blued if it wasn't bangful this morning. And a postcard from a young man from the front. As that saucy I wonder how it ever passed the century. Well, I do say, as how displace I brought us nothing but luck. Jeffery dashed out, equipped with a miniature Sam Brown belt with a sword and waving a boogle. Look, Father Christmas brought them. Merry Christmas, everybody! He flung himself at Nora with a mighty hug. And where is my Michael, and that Allison? Nora asked. Oh, Michael, darling, aren't you the lucky one, as he appeared, crowned with a paper cap and drawing a wooden engine? Where's Allison? It's no good ever speaking to Allison, Jeffery said, with scorn. She got a silly doll in her stocking, and all she'll do is to sit on the floor and take off its clothes. Girls are stupid. All except you, Nora. Keep up that belief, my son, and you'll be spared a heap of trouble, said Major Hunt, coming out. Unfortunately you're bound to change your mind. How are you all? We've had an awful morning. It began at half past four, Mrs. Hunt added, and that hour Michael discovered a trumpet, and no one has been asleep since. They talk of noise at the front, said her husband. Possibly I've got used to the artillery preparation. Anyhow it strikes me as a small thing compared to my trio when they get going with a sort of musical instruments. How is your small family, Miss Nora? Not quite so noisy as yours, but still you would notice they were there, Nora answered, laughing. They were all at breakfast when I left, and it seemed likely their breakfast would run on to dinner, unless they remembered that church is at eleven. I must run home. We just came to wish you all a merry Christmas. Dinner at half past one, remember? We won't forget, Mrs. Hunt said. Everyone was dining at Homewood, and dinner, for the sake of the children, was in the middle of the day. The house was full of guests. They trooped back from church across the park, where the ground rang hard as iron underfoot, for it was a frosty Christmas. Homewood glowed with colour and life, with big fires blazing everywhere, and holly and ivy scarlet and green against the dark, open panelling of the walls. And if the Australians sent thoughts overseas to a red homestead, Billabong nestling in its green of orchards and garden, with scorched yellow paddock stretching away for miles around it. They were not homesick thoughts today, for home was in their hearts, and they were together once more. The dinner was a simple one. Mrs. Lyle had reserved her finest inspirations for the evening meal, regarding Christmas dinner as a mere affair of turkey and blazing plum-putting, which, except in a matter of sauces, might be managed by anyone. It needs no soul, she said, but no one found any fault, and at the end Colonel Aikman made a little speech of thanks to their hosts. We all know they hate speeches made at them, he finished, but homewood is a blessed word today to fighting men. And their wives, that Mrs. Aikman, yes, to people who come to it tired beyond expression, and went back forgetting weariness. In their names, in the names of all of us, we want to say, thank you. David Linton stood up, looking down the long room, and last at his son. We, who are the most thankful people in the world, I think, today, he said, do not feel that you owe us any gratitude, rather we owe it to all our tired people, who helped us through our own share of what war can mean. And, apart from that, we never feel that the work is ours. We carry on for the sake of a dead man, a man who loved his country so keenly, that to die for it was his highest happiness. We are only tools, glad of war work, so easy and pleasant, as our guests make our job. But the work is John O'Neill's. So far as we can, we mean to make it live to his memory. He paused, Nora, looking up at him, saw him through misty eyes. So, we know you'll think of us kindly, after we have gone back to Australia, the deep voice went on. There will be a welcome there, too, for any of you who come to see us. But when you remember Homewood, please do not think of it as ours. If that brave soul can look back, as he said he would, and as we are sure he does, then he is happy over every tired fighter who goes, rested from his house. His only grief was that he could not fight himself. But his work in the war goes on, and as for us, we simply consider ourselves very lucky to be his instruments. Again, he paused. I don't think this is a day for drinking toasts, he said. When we have won, we can do that, but we have not won yet. But I will ask you all to drink to a brave man's memory. To John O'Neill. The short afternoon drew quickly to dusk, and lights flashed out. To be discreetly veiled, lest wandering German aircraft should wish to drop bombs as Christmas presents. Nora and the boys had disappeared mysteriously after dinner, vanishing into the study. Presently, Jeffrey came flying to his mother with eager eyes. Mother, Father Christmas is here! You don't say so, said Mrs. Hunt, effecting extreme astonishment. Where? I saw him run along the hall and go into the study. He was real, mother. Of course he's real, Major Hunt said. Do you think he's gone up to study chimney? Wally appeared in the doorway. Will the ladies and gentlemen kindly walk into the study? He said solemnly. We have. He distinguished guest. There, I told you, so Jeffrey is statically. He tugged at his father's hand, capering. In the study a great furrow-tree towered to the ceiling. A Christmas tree of the most beautiful description. Gay with shining-coloured globes and wax lights, and paper lanterns, laden with mysterious packages in white paper, tied with ribbon of red, white and blue, and with other things about which there was no mystery. Clockwork toys, field guns and ambulance wagons, and a big splendid Red Cross nurse, difficult to consider a mere doll. Never was seen such a laden tree. Its branches groaned under the weight they bore. And beside it, who but Father Christmas, bowing and smiling, with his eyes twinkling on their bushy white eyebrows? Walk in, ladies and gentlemen, walk in, he said invitingly. Wally frowned at him. That's not the way to talk, he said. You aren't a shop-walker. He inflicted a surreptitious kick upon the elderly saint. Hey, you blighter, that's my shin, said Father Christmas wrathfully, a remark luckily unheard by the guests in the excitement of the moment. All the household was there. Missed the loyal beaming at Wally, a very stately and handsome in blue silk. The servants, led by Allenby, with con and catty and bright, giggling with astonishment, at a tree the like of which did not grow in Donegal. All must hurt, said Father Christmas. Righto! I mean, that is well. As you see, I've had no end of a time laboring in your behalf. But I love artwork. Interruption from Mr Meadows, sounding like, I don't think. Being tired, I shelled deep youth to my dear young friend here, the task of removing the parcels from the tree. He tapped Wally severely on the head with his knuckles, and that hapless youth ejaculated. Beast! You'll get thrown out if you don't watch it, said the saint severely. Now, ladies first. He detached the red-crossed nurse from her bow, and placed her in Allison's arms. And Allison, who had glued her eyes to her from the moment of entering the room, uttered a gasp, sat promptly upon the floor, and began an exhaustive examination of her charms, unheating any further gifts. Under the onslaught of Wally and Harry, the tree speedily became stripped of its burden. Father Christmas directing their labours in a voice that plainly had its training on the barrack square. Eva watched him admiringly. I ain't a captain at trick, she murmured, hugging her parcels to her. The last package came down, and Father Christmas slipped away, disappearing behind a screen with a flourish that revealed an immaculate brown leather gaiter under the cotton wool snow bordering his red cloak. And presently Jim sauntered out, slightly flushed. Oh, you silly, said Jeffrey, wherever have you been? You've missed all Father Christmas. I never did have any luck, Jim said dolefully. Never mind, he's left heaps and heaps of parcels for you. I'll help you open them, said Jeffrey kindly. The gong summoned them to tea, and afterwards it was time to take the children home, happy and sleepy. Jim tossed Alison up on his shoulder, and, with Jeffrey clinging to his other hand, and Michael, riding Wally, pick a back. Nora and the boys escorted the hunts back to the cottage. You're coming over again, of course, Jim said. We're going to dance tonight. Oh, yes, we're getting a terribly frivolous old couple, said Mrs. Hunt, laughing. But Christmas leave only comes once a year, especially when there's a war on. I think she needs a rest-gure, said her husband, knitting his brows over this remarkable statement. Come in and lie down for a while, or you won't be coherent at all by tonight. Eve and I will put the babies to bed. Can't I help? Nora asked. Nope, you're off duty tonight. You've really no idea how handy I am, said Major Hunt modestly. Then we'll see you later on, Nora said, disentangling Michael from her neck. Good night, Michael, darling, and all of you. We've had a lovely time, Jeffrey said. I'm so glad, Nora said, smiling at him. The cottage door closed and they turned back. I've had a lovely time, too, she said. There never was such a Christmas. Never, Jim said. I believe that five months in Germany was worth it. No, said Wally sharply. No, it wasn't, Nora agreed. But now it helps one to forget. They came slowly across a frozen lawn. Before them homewood loomed up, little beams of warm light coming from its shuttered windows. Then the door opened wide, letting out a flood of radiance. And in it stood David Linton, looking out for them. They came into the path of light, Nora between the two tall lads. His voice was tender as he looked down at their glowing faces. It's cold, he said. Come in to the fire, children. End of chapter 20 End of Captain Jim by Mary Grant Bruce