"I wish I could cut off a slice of this house and stick it on to yours," said the Pirate.
"Wouldn't it be fun if you could!" said Charity. "I see you've a lot of books but not so many as Sir George. I mean to have a house full of books when I grow up; a very big house I shall have, and an enormous library!"
They chattered on and made a very good tea; in fact, there were so many biscuits and cakes that Charity said she did not consider it a war tea. When it was over, the Pirate took Charity and Hope upstairs to a big picture gallery. He left them there looking at the pictures, whilst he asked Faith to follow him along a wide passage to a room at the end of it.
"Now," he said, "come in and see my father. Remember he is a poor sick old gentleman, and talk to him as you did to me the other day, and tell him how he can be happy."
Faith shrank back, then fighting with her fears she took hold of the Pirate's hand.
"I'm very afraid," she said, "and p'raps he won't like to see me. And I can't talk to him like I do to you."
"Never mind, just talk to him about anything."
And then the Pirate opened the door of a large sunny room; there were four big windows in a row, and drawn up to one of them, which was wide open, was a big couch. The invalid was lying on it, but he did not turn his head when they, came in.
An elderly man-servant was standing by his couch; he was just taking away a small tray of tea which stood on a table by the side of it, and old Mr. Cardwell was thundering out:
"You clumsy fool! Can't you do your duties without shaking the whole room with your heavy tread? And pull down the blind—that confounded sun is—"