“They’re drunk,” said Nicholas; “and they’re shouting at us.”
“Oh, run, run!” cried Dora; and down the road they ran, the men shouting and following them. They had not run far, when Hector caught his foot in the Captain’s great-coat, which he was wearing, and came down head-long in the road. They were close by a gate, and when Nicholas had set Hector upon his legs, St. George hastily opened it.
“This is the first house,” he said. “We’ll act here;” and all, even the Valiant Slasher, pressed in as quickly as possible. Once safe within the grounds, they shouldered their sticks, and resumed their composure.
“You’re going to the front door,” said Nicholas. “Mummers ought to go to the back.”
“We don’t know where it is,” said Robin, and he rang the front door bell. There was a pause. Then lights shone, steps were heard, and at last a sound of much unbarring, unbolting, and unlocking. It might have been a prison. Then the door was opened by an elderly, timid-looking woman, who held a tallow candle above her head.
“Who’s there?” she said, “at this time of night.”
“We’re Christmas mummers,” said Robin, stoutly; “we didn’t know the way to the back door, but——”
“And don’t you know better than to come here?” said the woman. “Be off with you, as fast as you can.”
“You’re only the servant,” said Robin. “Go and ask your master and mistress if they wouldn’t like to see us act. We do it very well.”
“You impudent boy, be off with you!” repeated the woman. “Master’d no more let you nor any other such rubbish set foot in this house——”