Then he told her that he had a number of books full of pictures of live creatures in his library, and said she must come up another day and look at them. And though Esther could never think of the Crag without a certain shrinking and fear, yet she did want to see the pictures very much, if only they would not take her into those awful underground places, or into the rooms where all those strange things went on.
When they got home, there was a sound of voices coming from the open drawing-room windows. The boys had rushed headlong in, and now came tumbling out again.
"It's only Mrs. Poll-parrot and Pretty Polly!" cried the pair in a breath; whereupon Mr. Trelawny took the two heads, one in either hand, and knocked them pretty smartly together.
"Mind your manners, boys!" he said in his big gruff voice, and strode on, holding Esther's hand, whilst Pickle and Puck remained behind, staring after him and rubbing their heads with an air of injured innocence.
"He's rather an old beast sometimes, I think," said Puck rather ruefully. "I don't quite like him always."
"He makes us do as he says," added Pickle, "like Mr. Earle—I mean the Owl. I think it's rather interfering of them."
Meantime Mr. Trelawny had entered the window, drawing Esther after him.
"Good evening, madam," he said in his breezy way—"good evening to you all. Mrs. St. Aiden, I have come to make my peace with you. Tell me first what you think of your shorn lamb."
Then he pushed Esther forward, and the child stood before her mother, the color coming and going in her face rather too fast to please Mr. Trelawny, who looked at her from under his bushy brows and shook his head once or twice.
Mrs. St. Aiden gave a little gasp, almost a little scream. Mrs. Polperran stared, and began to laugh; while Prissy cried out in unveiled astonishment,—