‘Oh yes, we can,’ said Caroline, sitting down on the second step. The others also sat down. It was Charles who said, ‘So there!’ and Caroline had to nudge him and say, ‘Hush!’
‘We never called before at a house where they didn’t ask you in and give you a chair to sit on. But if this is that kind of house,’ said Charlotte grandly, ‘it does not matter. It is a fine day, luckily.’
‘Look here,’ said the footman behind them, now thoroughly uneasy, ‘this won’t do, you know. There’s company expected. I can’t have a lot of ragged children sitting on the steps like the First of May.’
‘I’m sorry,’ said Charlotte, without turning her head; ‘but if you haven’t any rooms fit to ask us into, I’m afraid you’ll have to have us sitting here.’
The three sat staring at the bright garden and the dancing fountain.
‘Look here,’ said the footman, weakly blustering; ‘this is cheek. That’s what this is. But you go now. Do you hear? Or must I make you?’
‘We hear,’ said Caroline, speaking as calmly as one can speak when one is almost choking with mingled rage, disappointment, fear, and uncertainty.
‘And I defy you to lay a finger on your master’s visitors,’ said Charlotte. ‘How do you know who we are? We haven’t given you our names.’
The footman must have felt a sudden doubt. He hesitated a moment, and then, muttering something about seeing Mr. Checkles, he retired, leaving the children in possession of the field. And there they sat, in a row, on Lord Andore’s steps, with the bouquet laid carefully on the step above them.