"Thrue," agreed Mary Ellen. "And shut the dure afther ye, and make yersilves scarce till tea-time, like good childer, do."
Mrs. Handsomebody was borne away by Mary Ellen and Mrs. Coe, the latter still muttering—"terbaccer smoke dahn 'er froat."
We restored Coppertoes to his wicker cage, and wrapping it in an antimacassar, hid it beneath the piano.
IV
We three sat, "making ourselves scarce," on the topmost of the steps before the front door. It was only four by the Cathedral clock, which solemnly struck the hour, but it was almost dark. It was cold and we pressed closely together for warmth. The Seraph murmured a little song of which I caught the words:
"The birds! The birds!
He knocked the stuffing
Out of the stuffed birds!"
We watched the slow progress of the lamplighter along the street. Like a god, he marched solemnly, leaving new stars in his wake.
As he raised his wand and touched the lamp before our house, a new figure appeared beneath its rays, hurrying darkly towards us. It entered the gate and came in a stealthy way to where we sat. We recognized the cobbler.