Monroe pressed his friend's hand.
"Come, by all means. And now we are near my house; go in and take tea with us."
"No, not to-day. It is dies nefastus. Good-bye!"
Twirling his grizzly moustaches and humming to himself, Easelmann turned back. He did not go to his room, however, but went down a quiet street, apparently guided by instinct, and rang the bell at a well-known door.
"Is Mr. Holworthy at home?"
The servant-girl nodded and smiled, and Easelmann entered. Mr. Holworthy was emphatically at home, for he was on all-fours, his three children riding cock-horse, with merry shouts, varied by harmless tumbles and laborious clamberings up. Mr. Holworthy rose with a flushed and happy face, and the children rushed at once to clasp the knees of their familiar old friend.
"We all have to come down at times, I believe," said Mr. Holworthy, smoothing the few thin hairs on his handsomely arched crown.
"Certainly; a man that can't be a boy with his children deserves to have none. Now the reason I am a bachelor is that I feared I could never unbend, being somewhat remarkable for my perpendic"—
The word was cut off by a sudden movement; the children in their playful struggles had, in fact, thrown him down. In a moment more they were on his back and he trotting round the room with the grace of an elephant.
"Come, children," said the father, "that was a rough joke. Get off, now, and go for your bread and milk."