The old woman opened a door a little way down the passage. "This be his nursery," she whispered.
The room was long and unexpectedly light, having three large windows; but it struck Joan with a little shock of pity that they were barred along the lower half, just as the window had been in the old bedroom at Leaside when she and Milly were venturesome little children. In front of the fire stood a tall nursery guard.
"Here's the kind lady, Master Rupert; 'er what I told you about."
A large, shabby man, with a full grey beard and a mane of hair, was kneeling in front of an open cupboard. As Joan came forward he looked round piteously.
"I've lost my dolly, my best dolly," he whimpered. "You haven't hidden my dolly, have you?"
"Now, now, Master Rupert!" said Mrs. Keith sharply. "This is Miss Ogden, what's come here to look after you; come and say 'How do you do' to her, at once."
The big, untidy man stood up. He eyed Joan with suspicion, fingering his beard. "I don't like you," he said thoughtfully, "I don't like you at all. Go away, please; I believe you've hidden my dolly."
"Can't I help you to look for her?" Joan suggested. "What's this one; is this the dolly?" she added, retrieving a dilapidated wax doll from under a chair.
"That's my dolly!" cried the man in a tone of rapture. "That's my dear, darling dolly! Isn't she beautiful?" And he hugged the doll to his bosom.
"Say 'Thank you,' Master Rupert," admonished Mrs. Keith.