“There are stairs,” said Betty, snatching a candle in its silver candlestick and holding it high.
“BETTY HANDED HIM THE CANDLE.”
The Chevalier St. George sprang to a chair, got his knee on the mantelpiece, and went into the hole, just as Alice goes through the looking-glass in Mr. Tenniel’s picture. Betty handed him the candle, which his white hand reached down to take. Then Elfrida jumped on the chair and shut the panel, leaped down, and opened the room door just as the maid reached its other side with the supper-tray.
When the cousins were alone Bet threw her arms round Elfrida.
“Don’t be afraid, little cousin,” she whispered, “your Cousin Bet will see that no harm comes to you from this adventure.”
“Well, I do think!” said Elfrida getting out of the embrace most promptly, “when it was me let him in, and you’d have screamed the house down, if I hadn’t stopped you——”
“Stop chattering, child,” said Bet, drawing a distracted hand over her pretty forehead, “and let me set my wits to work how I may serve my King.”
“I,” said Elfrida scornfully, “should give him something to eat and see that his bed’s aired; but I suppose that would be too vulgar and common for you.”
The two looked at each other across the untasted supper.