“Stay where ye be, ye brat! I bean’t goin’ to ’ave ye runnin’ in and out just as ye likes. And stop a-kickin’ that door.”
“Open the door!” cried the captain, in a very loud voice.
There was a shuffling of feet on the other side, and the door was pulled open. A candle had been set down on some bare, uncarpeted stairs near at hand, and was flaring in the wind; a heavy, surprised-looking country-woman stood in the doorway, looking out at the little group.
“Are you Mrs. Blissett?” asked the captain, rapping out the words fiercely.
“Yes, sir, I be,” said the woman, hurriedly bending herself at the knees, in a sort of staggering courtesy.
“Then what the devil do you mean by putting this baby out in the rain?” exclaimed the captain. “Stand aside, and let me in. Where’s your master!”
The woman was at first too startled to reply; she backed against the wall, and waved one hand feebly toward the stairs. The captain nodded at the candle, and the woman, with her eyes blinking nervously, groped for it, picked it up, and backed away with it.
“Go first,” said the captain, “and tell your master that a gentleman wishes to see him.—Comethup, follow me.”
The woman hesitated for a moment, and then went before them heavily up the stairs with the candle. The door leading into the garden remained open, and Comethup felt the wet wind blowing about his legs as he followed the captain, who marched steadily close behind the woman. The child had stolen an arm up round the captain’s neck, under his cloak; and he was holding her against his breast with one arm, while his tall old silk hat, dripping with rain, swung in his disengaged hand.
At the top of the first flight of stairs the woman stopped at a door and bent her head as though listening, and then rapped with her knuckles. After a moment or two, receiving no answer, she turned the handle and went hesitatingly in, the captain following her closely, and Comethup hard on the heels of the captain.