“Fancy,” said Mrs. Merillia, “you can go to your room and lie down.”
“Yes, ma’am. I say again, as I said afore, the house has been broke into and the robbers—”
At this point the Prophet shut the door on the faithful and persistent creature, who forthwith carried her determination and sobs to an upper storey.
“Hennessey, what is all this? Who is really here?”
“Grannie, dear, only two friends of mine,” replied the Prophet, trying to look at ease, and feeling like a criminal.
“Friends of yours? But surely then I know them. I thought I knew all your friends.”
“So you do, grannie, all except—except just these.”
“And they are old and valued, you say?”
“No, no—that is, I mean yes.”
Mrs. Merillia was too dignified to ask any further questions. She lay back on her sofa, and looked at her grandson with a shining of mild reproach in her green eyes.