‘How could he have told every one, soldiers, inhabitants, and all? where could they have gone? No, he raised no alarm, but he ordered the Portuguese out of the building, and with the help of an English sergeant, he carried out, piece by piece, all the wood which they had set on fire. Now, imagine what that must have been. An explosion might happen at any moment, yet they had to walk steadily, slowly, and with the utmost caution, in and out of this place several times, lest one spark might fly back.’
‘Then they were saved?’ cried Phyllis, breathlessly; ‘and what became of them afterwards?’
‘They were both killed in battle, the officer, I believe, in Badajoz, and the sergeant sometime afterwards.’
Phyllis gave a deep sigh, and sat silent for some minutes. Next, Claude began a droll Irish fairy-tale, which he told with spirit and humour, such as some people would have scorned to exert for the amusement of a mere child. Phyllis laughed, and was so happy, that when suddenly they heard the sound of wheels, she started up, wondering what brought the others home so soon, and was still more surprised when Claude told her it was past ten.
‘Oh dear! what will papa and Emily say to me for being up still? But I will stay now, it would not be fair to pretend to be gone to bed.’
‘Well said, honest Phyl; now for the news from the castle.’
‘Why, Claude,’ said his eldest brother, entering, ‘you are alive again.’
‘I doubt whether your evening could have been pleasanter than ours,’ said Claude.
‘Phyl,’ cried Ada, ‘do you know, Mary Carrington’s governess thought I was Florence’s sister.’
‘You look so bright, Claude,’ said Jane, ‘I think you must have taken Cinderella’s friend with the pumpkin to enliven you.’