Almost at the same instant the others who have been in the drawing-room, drawn to the spot by the delicate machinations of Mr. Potts, come on the scene; while Marcia, who has heard that scared cry, emerges quickly from among them and passes up the stairs into her grandfather's room.
There follows an awkward silence. Cecil, who has been adorning a corner farther on, comes creeping toward them, pale and nervous, having also been a witness to Mr. Amherst's hurried flight; and she and Molly, in their masquerading costumes, feel, to say the least of it, rather small.
They cast a withering glance at Potts, who has grown a lively purple; but he only shakes his head, having no explanation to offer, and knowing himself for once in his life to be unequal to the occasion.
Mrs. Darley is the first to break silence.
"What is it? What has happened? Why are you both here in your night-dresses?" she asks, unguardedly, losing her head in the excitement of the moment.
"What do you mean?" says Cecil, angrily. "'Nightdresses'! If you don't know dressing-gowns when you see them, I am sorry for you. Plantagenet, what has happened?"
"It was grandpapa," says Molly, in a frightened tone. "He came by, and I think was upset by my—appearance. Oh, I hope I have not done him any harm! Mr. Potts, why did you make me do it?"
"How could I tell?" replies Potts, who is as white as their costumes. "What an awful shriek he gave! I thought such a stern old card as he is would have had more pluck!"
"I was positive he was in bed," says Cecil, "or I should never have ventured."
"He is never where he ought to be," mutters Potts gloomily.