Of the lonely waiting, of the noises that had frightened them.
"Oh, Mr. Kirtland! That armor is standing just as it did when it was daylight here, but truly we heard his sword rattle against his shield, and once—" Rose's voice faltered.
"Once," said Polly, taking up the story, "we thought he walked across the floor!"
"I have heard the same thing," was the quick reply, "and I am not at all surprised that you were terrified."
Rose and Polly were grateful that he did not laugh or even look amused.
"But he COULDN'T walk," said Rose; "it's only an iron suit."
"Oh, he surely doesn't move," Arthur Kirtland said, and he smiled kindly at the children, "but sometimes I think a tiny mouse mistakes it for a huge cage and runs around in it, and as to his walking, the cars on the railroad that runs back of the studio jar the building and shake the suit of armor. I think that may be what you heard."
"Well, it sounds harmless enough when ye know what made the noise," John said, with a laugh, "and now I guess ye'll be some willin' ter go home ter Aunt Lois. The carriage is at the door."
"Oh, yes, yes!" they cried.
"A studio is a lovely place in the day-time," said Polly, "and the pictures are beautiful then, but when it begins to be dark it's DIFFERENT."