While Lucy and Rollo were saying this, Mr. Holiday had gone to his secretary, and opened it, and was taking down a bundle of papers.
“Why, I am afraid,” said he, “that you will interrupt me. I am engaged in some very perplexing work.”
“No, sir, we won’t,” said Rollo. “We will be ever so still. I’ll put my gun away, and my cap. Lucy, you take out my feather, and then I’ll take off my cap, and we’ll put it away, and come and sit down upon the sofa, and be still, and look at father’s great picture-book. May we have your great picture-book, father?”
“Why, I have no objection,” said his father, “to your having the great picture-book; but then I am very certain that you’ll interrupt me if you stay here.”
Rollo’s father talked very indistinctly as he said this, for his pen was across his mouth, both hands being occupied in turning over the file of papers which he had taken down from the secretary.
At length, he took his seat at the table again, and began to write, saying, however, before he began, that Rollo and Lucy might see if they could stay in his room without interrupting him.
“Come, Lucy,” said Rollo, “let us go and get my little table to put up by the sofa, and then we can put the great picture-book upon it, and then sit upon the sofa, and look at the pictures.”
They accordingly went off to get the table. It was a small, square table, with a drawer in it. It was just high enough for Rollo and Lucy, and so light that it was very easy to carry about. Rollo took hold of one side, and Lucy of the other, and they brought it into the room very easily.
“Now,” said Rollo, looking about, “now for a light.”
He observed that there were two lamps upon his father’s table, and so he went up to the table abruptly, saying,—