“How readily you tell them, Bob,” said Volna, smiling.
“It was your acting that carried us through, young lady. Dear Father Ambrose, indeed. As if you had known him all your life.”
“I think she’s going to let us stay.”
She came in again then, having taken off her bonnet. “Will you come with me?” she said to Volna, who rose. “The Father’s dressing room is through there, sir,” she added to me, pointing to a door.
I made use of it promptly; washed and shaved and did what I could to make myself look less like a tramp, before I returned to the good man’s study.
I must confess that the prospect of meeting him was vastly less to my taste now than it had appeared when we were twenty miles away; and I paced the floor considerably ill at ease.
Presently Volna came in, looking as neat and natty as if all the events of the past day and a half were a dream.
“How on earth have you managed it?” I cried, gazing at her in sheer admiration.
“That is the dearest old soul in whom nature ever planted the curiosity of a woman. She just fussed over me as though she was a hen and I her one chicken.”
“You look as though you hadn’t had anything to make you turn a hair for the last fortnight. The way you girls manage these renovations always beats me. Twenty miles away you said you wanted to go to bed; and here you are as fresh as paint.”