The children threw off their wraps, the housekeeper helping them, and chattering ceaselessly, from sheer nervousness.
"Well, to be sure," said she, "their dresses are pretty, too. And they seem quite a better sort of children, they talk quite genteel. I might ha' knowed they weren't like common mummers, but I was so flusterated hearing the bell go so late, and——"
"Are they ready?" said the old man, who had stood like a ghost in the dim light of the flaring tallow candle, grimly watching the proceedings.
"Yes, sir. Shall I take them to the kitchen, sir?"
"——for you and the other idle hussies to gape and grin at? No. Bring them to the library," he snapped, and then stalked off, leading the way.
The housekeeper accordingly led them to the library, and then withdrew, nearly falling on her face as she left the room by stumbling over Darkie, who slipped in last like a black shadow.
The old man was seated in a carved oak chair by the fire.
"I never said the dogs were to come in," he said.
"But we can't do without them, please," said Robin, boldly. "You see there are eight people in 'The Peace Egg,' and there are only five of us; and so Darkie has to be the Black Prince, and Pax has to be the Fool, and so we have to have them."
"Five and two make seven," said the old man, with a grim smile; "what do you do for the eighth?"