"How d'you do?" she said sleepily. "What o'clock is it?"
"It is getting on for half-past five, Miss," I said.
"Oh, to be sure. I've had my tea," she said, and she got up slowly. I saw she was about as tall as our Rosie, or taller, though I found later she was only eight years old. "Grandpapa's gone out," she said. "And they told me the museum-boy was coming back, so I thought I would be here to see him. Are you the museum-boy? And is your name Miles?"
"I'm Miles Murchison, Miss," I said; "and I've got to look after the museum."
"Oh yes; I know all about it," said she. "And the housemaid and under-gardener tried to get in, and you wouldn't let them. That was like a soldier doing his duty;" and she held up her head. "My papa is a soldier, so I know all about it. And he told me a story once—about the private and the Duke, you know."
"No, Miss; I don't know the story," I said.
"Don't you? Why, I thought everybody did," said she. "Let me see, how did the story begin? There was a private soldier put at a door to keep people from going in, except those that had got a written order— at least, I think that was it. The soldier was told to turn back everybody else, you know; and of course he had to turn back lots. And presently a duke came up, at least, I think it was a duke; and I believe it was the Duke of Wellington, only I'm not sure. But anyhow, the Duke hadn't a written paper to show, and he wanted to go in without it, and the soldier wouldn't let him. And of course the soldier was right, because he only just had to do as he was bid. And the Duke gave up, and went away quietly; and when the soldier heard who it was he had turned back, he was rather frightened, because he thought the Duke would be angry. But instead of that, the Duke saw the soldier afterward, and praised him for obeying, and said he was perfectly right. Wasn't it nice of the Duke? And I think," Miss Adela went on, "it was a wee bit like that, when you turned Rose and Will out of the museum; only not quite the same, because there wasn't any Duke."
"But Mr. Laurence doesn't mind you coming here, does he, Miss?" I asked.
"Me? Why, of course not. I am his grandchild," said she. "Of course I may do what I like in his house. He is the dearest old Grandpapa, isn't he? And he likes you ever so much, I know, because he told me he did. He said you were such a trustworthy boy."
I was glad to hear this, even though I knew pretty well already what Mr. Laurence thought.