“Let’s rush in the back way and pretend we have been here for an hour,” cried Marie.
They flew rather than walked round by the flower-garden, and through the open window of the drawing-room. There was the carriage turning in at the gate, a quarter of a mile off; there was plenty of time. But the fact that there was plenty of time did not make them move quietly. They proceeded into the hall, making themselves audible by the chatter of their childish voices and laughter.
“Won’t mamma be surprised!” cried Marie.
But, on the contrary, it was herself that was surprised. She gave a lengthened “Oh!” of wonder, alarm, and consternation, as they came in sight of the stranger in the hall. She turned round and clutched at Roland, and like a little coward put him first. He was twelve, not an age to be frightened, and Marie was but eleven. Roland said “Oh!” too, but with a different tone, and, dropping back a little upon her, confronted and gazed at the sleeper in the easy chair. His looks were not of the kind that children fly. The heavy moustache drooping over his mouth seemed to add to the appearance of complete, yet pleasant weariness, in which the shabby figure was wrapped. Here was a thing to encounter when one got home: a man, a gentleman, whom one had never seen before, fast asleep in the great chair in the hall!
“Will he not wake?” whispered Marie. “Oh, Roland! are you frightened? Shall I run and tell Brown?”
“Frightened!—likely,” said Roland; but he kept hold of her frock, not that she could have been of any real assistance to him, but “for company.”
The two children stood transfixed before this strange apparition, watching if he would move. At the first stir, Marie most likely would have run away with a shriek; but after all what was there to fear? Mamma had certainly turned into the avenue, and might arrive any moment, and Brown with his army of men and maids was somewhere in the background within call, so there was no real reason to fear. Nevertheless, when the arms that rested on the arms of the chair began to stretch themselves, and the intent gaze of the children drew the tired eyes open, Marie’s best efforts to command herself could not restrain a tremulous cry, which quite completed the stranger’s awakening.
“Bless me, I’ve been asleep!” he said, opening his eyes. Then when he saw the two little figures before him, his eyelids opened wider, and a smile came out from underneath them. “Little folks, who are you?”
“It’s you to tell us,” cried Roland with spirit. “This is our house, but it isn’t yours.”
“That’s true, my little man. I’ve been asleep, more shame to me. It was hot, and I’ve had a long walk.”