“It is a surprise of some sort or other,” said Ada Martin; “I am quite sure it is. I can tell it by the twinkle in Mr. Merry’s eye.”
Rat-tat, again and again, at the door.
“I can’t bear this suspense any longer,” said Emily Cathcart; “I must peep.” But the door was closed, and a firm hand on the outside kept it fast.
“I say it’s a Punch and Judy,” said one.
“No; I say it’s Christy’s Minstrels,” said another.
“I believe it’s fireworks, to go off on the lawn,” said Arthur Mortram.
And in the midst of the speculations the doors were thrown open, and the visitors were announced:
- Mr. W. H. G. Kingston.
- Mr. R. M. Ballantyne.
- Mr. Edwin Hodder.
- Mrs. Mona Bickerstaffe.
- Mr. Sidney Daryl.
- Mr. R. Hope Moncrieff.
- Cousin Cyntha.
As each name was announced a buzz of welcome was heard, for every name was associated with bright and happy recollections, and every one in the room felt (as every child in the land feels) that the authors of the tales which had been their delight for years could not be other than their friends. So there was a great deal of hand-shaking, and many a kind and cheery word given to the youngsters, and then Old Merry said: