“If ye could!” clamoured the little group.
“Mr. Jenkins, if Mr. Roberts——” broke in Mrs. Roberts.
“Mr. Jenkins, if Mr. Morris——” interrupted Mrs. Morris.
“Won’t ye come in?” asked Ariel, placidly interrupting them all. “I’m certain ye will like the light even better from the inside where it falls in such pleasin’ colours on the landin’. When I was workin’ on it last night by moonlight the colours were like fairyland.”
“Aye, it’s only a poet could have conceived this,” said Mrs. Morris, with assurance, “only a poet!”
“Only a poet!” echoed the rest.
“But won’t ye come in? Mrs. Jenkins will be glad to see ye.”
“Aye, thank ye, ’twould be a pleasure!” And flock-like they followed Ariel into the house.
Mrs. Jenkins’s eyes were red, and there was the furtive aspect of a trapped animal about her; but when she saw their eager faces and heard their enthusiastic and admiring exclamations as they crowded into the stairway landing, there was a look of surprise first, and then of delight upon her face.