“You do it whether or no,” said the old man. “I must be getting along home. You’d like to play about a bit, eh? Well, bring me the keys when you’ve done. I can trust you not to hurt your own place, that’s been in the family all these hundreds of years.”
“I should think you could!” said Edred proudly. “Goodbye, and thank you.”
“Goodbye, my lord,” said the old man, and went.
“I say,” said Edred, with the big bunch of keys in his hand,—“if I am Lord Arden!”
“You are! you are!” said Elfrida. “I am perfectly certain you are. And I suppose I’m Lady Arden. How perfectly ripping! We can shut up those lodging-children now, anyhow. What’s up?”
Edred was frowning and pulling the velvet covering of moss off the big stone on which he had absently sat down.
“‘AYE,’ HE SAID, ‘YOU’RE AN ARDEN, FOR SURE.’”
“Do you think it’s burglarish,” he said slowly, “to go into your own house without leave?”
“Not if it is your own house. Of course not,” said Elfrida.