'Yes, indeed,' said his mother; 'how kind of her.'
They were passing along the picture gallery. All of them together, except nurse and baby, who had stayed behind by the nursery fire. Linda, Alex, Lambert, and Nettie in front; mother and Denis and Tanner behind. Denis tightened his hold of his mother's hand, but said nothing.
'I wish we had one of the turret rooms,' said Linda; 'this gallery is so lovely to run along every time one goes to one's room. I like this gallery the best of anything in the house.'
'And best of all in the moonlight,' said Alex. 'Don't you remember, Linda? For my part I prefer it in the day-time, or well lit up, like just now.'
'What a goose you are!' said Linda. 'Do you mean to say you'd be afraid to come here in the moonlight?'
'Hush, children, don't talk so foolishly,' said their mother, for she never liked that silly kind of talk, especially before the little ones. 'I quite agree with you, Linda, about this gallery being charming.'
They all stood for a moment—they were close to the end door by now, the door that opened into the anteroom, from whence opened the turret rooms—and looked back. It was worth looking at. Lighted by the old-fashioned lamps that hung at intervals from the dark oak ceiling, which reflected their rays like a black mirror, the old gallery, with its coloured glass windows at one side, the small, leadened panes looking quaint and mysterious, though their tints could not, of course, be seen, and the rows and rows of silent portraits looking down upon you from the other side, seemed like a dream of a long-ago world, the merry voices and bright glances of the children striking one as almost out of place, and the grave faces appearing to gaze at them in disapproval.
'It was not meant for a picture gallery long ago,' said their mother: 'if it had been, these windows would not have been placed so, and they certainly would not have had coloured glass. These portraits used to be in the large saloon and the drawing-room, but they made them look so gloomy that Granny's father hung them up here,' and so saying she opened the door and crossed the passage to the boys' room, followed by all the five.
'How jolly!' said Alex and Lambert in a breath, and with good reason, for their room looked the picture of comfort, with its deep window-seats and wainscoted walls, and the radiance of the brightly-burning fire over all.
'The boys don't have fires in their bedroom at home,' observed Linda.