"Oh yes, do, mammy; I want to see the house," implored Cecil.
"Why did you not tell me what a dreadful man he is, Katherine, and I should not have put myself in the way of being insulted?"
"I think I told you enough to keep you away, Ada. What put it into your head to come?"
"I scarcely know. I always intended it, and Colonel Ormonde said it was my duty to let him, Mr. Liddell, see the boys. I really did not want to come."
"I wish Colonel Ormonde would mind his own affairs," cried Katherine. "I fancy he only talks for talking's sake."
"That is all you know," indignantly; "he is a very clever man of the world, and I am fortunate in having such a friend to interest himself in me."
"Oh, well, perhaps so. At all events, I am very glad to see the bays, and—you too, Ada. Charlie is very pale. Come here, Charlie."
"Oh, auntie, is this your own, own room? Does the cross old man ever come here? Are all those books yours—and the funny little table with the crooked legs? Who is the man in a wig?" cried Cecil. "Mightn't we stay with you? we would be so quiet? Mother says we are dreffully troublesome since you went away. We could both sleep with you in that great big bed! The cross old gentleman would never know. It would be such fun! Do, do, let us stay, auntie!"
"But I am afraid of the old gentleman," whispered the younger boy. "Does he ever hurt you, auntie dear? I wish you would come home."
"Charlie is such a coward," said Cecil, with contempt.