'Oh,' said the man, 'Lady Nearn's!—that's next door, miss. I don't need to look it up.'
They thanked him and set off again, thinking they had been very lucky, though I thought if Anne had remembered the name as close as that, she might have looked it up in our own red book at home before starting.
They rang again next door, and again a footman opened; but he wasn't so good-natured as the other, and he was stupid too.
'Is Lady Nearn at home? Can I see her?' asked Anne quite coolly. Anne is as cool as anything when she's full of some idea. Nothing puts her out or frightens her.
It was rather dark, and of course no one expects little ladies to be walking about alone so late. So it wasn't much wonder the man thought they were errand girls, or beggars of some kind possibly.
'No,' he said, 'my lady's not at home; and if she was she wouldn't be to no tiresome children like you.' (We made Anne and Serry tell us exactly all that was said.) 'She leaves word if she's expecting any of her school brats, but she's said nothing this time, so it's no use your teasing.'
If I'd been Anne I'd have been in a fury, but Serry said she didn't seem to mind.
'Oh, please,' she said, 'we're not school-children, and we've come about something very particular indeed. Don't you think Lady Nearn will be in soon?'
That was Anne all over. She'd no intention of giving up now she had got so far.
I suppose the footman heard by her voice that she wasn't a common child.