“I wish to see Miss Pole.”
“Come along, then,” said the man, stopping to snuff the candle with his fingers, and then leading the way upstairs.
Justin, still holding his sister closely under his arm, reascended the stairs.
By the light of the candle carried by the man before him, he saw that this part of the old house seemed entirely unfurnished. The floors were bare and rough, and broken here and there, and the walls were disfigured by torn paper and fallen plastering.
This hall of the third story was neatly papered and comfortably carpeted, and well lighted by a small, clear lamp hanging from the ceiling. A large window at the end of this hall was also curtained.
The smooth-chinned giant in the dust-colored clothes opened the nearest door to the right, and said:
“Go in there.”
With Erminie tucked under one arm, and his hat in his hand, Justin entered the room.
It was a neatly-furnished sitting-room, lighted, like the hall, by a small, clear lamp, hanging from the ceiling.
Under this lamp stood a large, round center-table, covered with flowered green cloth, and laden with books, bookmarks, hand-screens, smelling-bottles, a small open workbox, and, in short, all the paraphernalia of a lady’s table.