"Isn't it better to keep to the road such a dark night as this?"
"You can't," said Patty, "it's all deep mud; you'd stick fast if you tried."
At length they saw a light, which came from the windows of a square stone house with a small garden in front of it, and Patty took a latchkey from her pocket and opened the door. Immediately a rush was heard from an inner room, and six children of various ages ran out to see the newcomer.
"Shake hands properly, and don't stand staring," said Patty. "Tom and Walter, Miss Douglas; they come next to me. Then there are Nellie and Alice. Oh! Alice, what a dirty pinafore you have. Why didn't you get Bessie to put you a clean one on? And here are the two babies. Come and kiss Miss Douglas, Bob and Evie. They're very dirty; they almost always are dirty, but they're such darlings!"
"How old are they?" asked Marjorie, as she stooped to kiss the cleanest part of the dirty little cheeks.
"Just three; they're twins, you know. Now run away, children; Miss Douglas must come and see mother."
She spoke as though they were all many years younger than herself, and as if all the cares of the household rested on her shoulders. Marjorie followed her upstairs, and she led the way into a bedroom where Mrs. Holtby was lying in bed.
Marjorie thought it was one of the most untidy rooms she had ever seen. Dust lay upon everything, and the table, chest of drawers, bed and floor were covered with all manner of things, crowded together in hopeless confusion. Mrs. Holtby raised herself on her pillow as Marjorie came in.
"I'm glad to see you, Miss Douglas. Oh! What beautiful violets."
Marjorie at once took them out of her coat and gave them to her.