Tuppit’s nimble fingers went round the desk and tried its fastenings.
‘Spring lock, too. So much the worse for him. Dier will pitch on it at once.’
The door burst open, and little Ada Wrentham bounced in, her pretty cheeks healthfully flushed, the hoop in her hand indicating how she had been engaged.
‘O dear!’ she exclaimed, drawing back when she saw that there was a stranger in the room.
‘Don’t go away—I’m a friend of yours,’ said Tuppit quickly.—‘Don’t you remember me? I saw you watching me when I was performing on the green in the summer-time, and you were with your nurse, and you sent me a penny.’
The child stopped, stared, then advanced a few paces timidly till she came to a sunbeam which crossed the room, dividing it in two. Then she put out her pretty hands, moving them to and fro as if laving them in the sunshine, whilst her eyes were full of wonder.
‘Was it you did all those funny things with the cards and the pigeons and the pennies, and the orange and the glass of water?’
‘That was me, Ada—you see I know your name—and if you like, I will show you some more funny things just now whilst I am waiting for your mamma.’
‘I’ll go and bring mamma. She would like to see them too.’
‘No, no; don’t go for her. She will be here as soon as she is ready. Besides, this is a trick I want to show you all to yourself. You are not afraid of the magician—are you?’