"Please," said the voice—it was the boy's, the elder of the two—"oh please can you tell me if Dame Martha Swann lives here or near here?"
Michael started again. It was of this very dame he had just been speaking. Were these two of the "good people" in disguise, come to visit him for some mysterious reason? He took care to answer very politely.
"Not here, but not so very far off," he replied, and the gentleness of his tone encouraged the child to ask further. "Then can you show us the road there? We are dreadfully tired—at least my little sister is, and we have lost our way somehow."
As the boy went on speaking, Michael's misgivings left him. The two were plainly ordinary human beings, though something in the child's voice or accent showed that they did not belong to this part of the world.
"Come in and rest yourselves for a while," said Mike. "Warm yourselves too. It is a chilly evening."
"Oh thank you," was the reply, as the two eagerly accepted his invitation. He led them towards the fire and drew forward seats, while Hodge and Giles, their pipes in their hands, stared in surprise.
"Whom have we here?" exclaimed Hodge; his tone sounded suspicious, and Giles too hung back a little.
"How should I know?" said Michael sharply. "You see as much as I. Whoever they are and wherever from, it's surely the least one can do to let them rest for a few minutes. No doubt they can explain about themselves. You were asking for old Dame Martha, my boy?" he went on.
"Yes, yes," was the ready reply, "we are her grandchildren. My name is Paul—Paul Swann, like father," his voice shook, "and——"
"I'm Mattie," said the girl, speaking for the first time. "That's for 'Martha,' like granny. Oh how I wish this was her house! I'm so tired."