CHAPTER XXII.—THE LITTLE CASTLE'S NEW INMATES.
Nothing could have exceeded the air of importance with which Albert was striding along the streets of Windsor, and notwithstanding the shortness of his legs, his valet de chambre, in the shape of a newly acquired French nurse, had difficulty in keeping up with him. The fact was, Albert was intrusted with a most important piece of information—the bearer of a message that had cleared his own mental horizon from so much as the vestige of a cloud, and which he felt sure would bring equal joy to the others for whom it was intended. The destination toward which he steered, without deviation to right or left, and with great regard for economy of time and space at corners and crossings, was the Little Castle, and he marched up the path from terrace to terrace, and rang the bell with all the complacency of a drum-major.
It was expected, of course, that faithful old Margaret, who was master in chief of affairs in the Little Castle, would, as usual, in the absence of the family, answer the bell, and the message intended for her was half way over Albert's lips before he took in the fact that the individual who had opened the door bore about as close resemblance to Margaret as the tower of the Little Castle to its door-mat.
“Why—why, who are you?” asked Albert as soon as he could check the impassioned utterance of his message, and instantly demanded in the next breath, “and—and where is Margaret?”
“Here I am, dear,” said Margaret, coming toward him as rapidly as an extra touch of rheumatism would permit, “and I suppose you wonder who this is who has let you in?”
“Nes,” said Albert, whose anxiety as to who this intruder might be was somewhat allayed by Margaret's appearance on the scene.