"Frederick Fairfax."
"Nine," continued Reuben Thorne. "If this meeting is less pleasant than the first, it is not a whit less strange. Surely that is Dinah Dim's step upon the veranda."
They all turned turned their faces to the door. "Dinah Dim," called out Michael Lee.
An old woman, with snow-white hair, tall and bent, entered the room with a light step, and looked briskly around. Her likeness to her picture on the wall was something marvellous. Not a hair was out of its place; of this there were five rows of curls on either side of her head; mittens on her hands and wrists; her gown of old-fashioned brocade; a scarf across her shoulders; eyes very bright; hands small and white; a complexion like a peach.
"So you are all before me," she said, in quick, silvery tones--"that scamp, Reuben Thorne--how are you, my child?--and the Holmes's, and Mr. Blanchard, and Coveney, and Fairfax, and Chatterton, and Goldberg. Is that all? Ah, no; here is my child, Richard Weston." She curtseyed to him, and held out her hand; he took it in his. "Why, child, you forget what to do with it, you used to kiss it when you were younger." He kissed her fingers. "Your hair is as white as mine, child; when I first knew you it was bright and curly. I shall take my seat next to you. And there is my friend, Mr. Rowe--as straight as an arrow. Now, my dears, why do we want the attendants about us? We can help ourselves and chat more freely. Send them away, Mr. Rowe, send them away."
At the sign from Mr. Rowe, the attendants, nothing loth, left the room, and did not enter again. The old lady continued:
"Now we can breathe. How many chairs are empty? One, two, three. Stephen Viner, the monster, is not here; and those two poor children--ah, me! Give me something to drink. No, not wine; water. I hope none of you will drink too much. Reuben Thorne, put down that glass! Drink is your ruin, and you know it. Who was speaking before I entered?"
"I," replied Reuben Thorne.
"You always had plenty to say. Go on, then; I dare say I interrupted you."
"The subject was about our first meeting not being more strange than this. Let me thank you for your presence here. You do not forget that it was I who first proposed this gathering."