"I'm sure, sir," said the house-keeper, whose only form of argument was reiteration, "I never thought you would have seen them——"
"Then you were wrong," shouted her master. "I will see them. Bring them in."
He was a tall, gaunt old man, and Robin stared at him for some minutes, wondering where he could have seen somebody very like him. At last he remembered. It was the old gentleman of the blue cloak.
The children threw off their wraps, the house-keeper helping them, and chatting 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 flustered 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 he stalked off, leading the way.
The house-keeper accordingly led them to the library and then withdrew, nearly falling on her face as she left the room by stumbling over Darkie, who clipped in last like a black shadow.