'I remember!' exclaimed Lance; 'you used to tell us the story. Somebody suspects him, and brings a creature shut up in a covered dish to ask him to tell what it was—and it happens to be a robin; so when he cries out, "Oh, poor Robin!" thinking himself done for, out hops the bird, and the enemy is sold.'
'Yes; and then he counts his dinners every day, and the thieves who have come to look on think he is counting them, and throw themselves on his mercy.'
'It has capabilities,' said Edgar.
'But the moral!' said Wilmet.
'What! Not the lesson against dealing with conjurors?' demanded Edgar. 'I'll undertake to arm your pupils against spirit-rapping for ever.'
'In that point of view—' said Wilmet doubtfully.
'In that point of view,' said Felix, laughing, 'it has my vote.'
'I don't like deception to succeed,' said Wilmet; 'but at least there's none of the worst sort of nonsense.'
Lance leapt up and performed a pas seul, insisting that Bill Harewood must come and be a robber; and Edgar and Cherry instantly had their heads together as playwrights and managers.
'Never mind, Wilmet,' said Felix at their bed-room doors that night. 'Remember, Father never was a man for all work and no play.'