“It was you that put all the water-cans about the landing, and the water-jugs on the stairs, for my father to fall amongst when”—she hesitated and flushed angrily—“when he came back late last night.”
Noll nodded:
“Yes,” said he—“and he fell amongst them.” He chuckled. “I watched him over the rail. It was moonlight up here. He came crawling up the stairs in the dark, saying Shush! to himself if a board creaked, and carrying his boots in his hand so as not to wake the landlady—and when he got on to this landing he gave a monstrous hiccup that jolly nearly pulled him off his feet, and he tripped up amongst the cans—away went his boots, and fell in the hall below. D’you know, I shall never play a lark on your father again—he’s such a gentleman. Most people would have sworn themselves putrid, but he just rubbed his shins and elbows, sat up in the moonlight, and said with a hiccup: ‘What a prodigious number of stars there are at the north pole! Shakespeare has cracked every nut—when beggars die, says he, there are no comets seen, the heavens themselves blaze forth the fall of the landed gentry.... I did not know all heaven held so many, various, multitudinous, and vast prodigious stars!’”
The girl waited grimly until he had done:
“It was you who made a booby-trap in his bed so that he could not get into it?”
Noll nodded:
“Yes,” said he; “he looked jolly comic under the bed; he got under—he must have slept there.”
“That’s just where you are mistaken,” said the child with a sneer. “I never go to bed until my father is asleep. I got him out.... I suppose you thought you were funny!”
Noll nodded:
“Yes,” he said; “I did, last night. But I don’t now. I think I was a cad.”