But by this time Mr Waldron had got down, and throwing the reins to Jerry, was ringing. He was not kept long waiting; the door flew open, and a flood of light—lamplight and firelight mingled, for there was a vision of blazing logs on an open hearth in the hall!—poured out, looking cheery enough certainly, though coarse and matter-of-fact in comparison with the delicate radiance outside.
“Her ladyship? Yes, sir—Mr Waldron, I believe? Yes, her ladyship is expecting you,” said a very irreproachable sort of person in black, who came forward as soon as the footman had opened. He was busy washing his hands with invisible soap while he spoke, and as he caught sight of the dog-cart and its occupants, he made some further observation which Charlotte and Jerry did not distinctly catch. But their father’s clear decided tones rang back sharply in answer:
“No, no—no need to put up. My son will wait for me. It is all right.”
Apparently, however, the butler, or major-domo, or whoever he was, had some twinges on the score of hospitality, for the door, already closed, was re-opened, and the footman looked out.
“Mr Bright says, sir,” he said, addressing Jerry in the first place, then stammering somewhat as he caught sight of Charlotte; “I beg your pardon, Miss, he says as I’m to leave the door a little open, and if you find it too cold, I’ll be here in the ’all, and ’appy to call some one, sir, to ’old the ’orse.”
“Thank you, it’s all right,” said Jerry, well knowing that neither he nor Charlotte would have ventured to enter without their father’s permission and protection, even if the proverbial cats and dogs had suddenly begun to fall from the sky.
“Who’s Mr Bright, do you think, Jerry?” Charlotte whispered.
“That fellow in black—the butler, I suppose,” Jerry replied.
“Don’t you wonder papa ventured to speak so sharply to him?” Charlotte went on. “Oh, Jerry! it must be awfully grand in there. I do wish they had left the door a little more ajar. We might perhaps have caught sight of her—she might have happened to be crossing the hall, the sort of way one always reads of in storybooks, you know.”
“Her?—who?” said Jerry, in bewilderment. “Lady Mildred, do you mean?”