The little dinner-party passed off very pleasantly. Clementina had done her part admirably, and everybody was resolutely talkative and bright. Even Lucy brought herself to say that perhaps it might be better still if Charlie arrived for New Year’s Day, since that would be an inauguration of a new order of things, while, socially considered, Christmas is rather a festival of the past.
After dinner in the little drawing-room, Hugh was the centre of all attention, as children always are at Christmas time. Games of the kind in which he could take largest share were the order of the day. In one of these Tom Black was dismissed from the apartment to wait outside till those within should summon him to rack his brains to discover “what their thought was like.” When they shut him out, they left him planted on a little table, which stood on the only half-lit landing. But when they opened the door to call him, he was not there!
“I believe he is so honest that he feared he might catch what we were saying, and he has gone down to his own room,” said Lucy. “Tom!” she cried. But as she did so she heard a sound of voices in the hall. Tom was there and Clementina was talking to him.
He answered, “Coming, coming!” and came running up. He dashed into the game with great spirit, but nevertheless seemed a little absent-minded, and proved so dense that he had to be told what he ought to have guessed, which was very unusual with Tom. After that, Lucy suggested that they would not begin another game till they had had tea, which was just coming in. The little service stood in readiness. Clementina had only to carry up the kettle and the tea-cakes. In this interval, Tom suddenly proposed to Mr. Somerset that they should take a few minutes’ turn in the street. “For a breath of fresh air,” he said.
The gentlemen did not stay out for quite half an hour. Hugh peeping from the window announced that he saw them walking up and down, talking. They nodded up to him, and they came in a few minutes afterwards. Lucy served them with cups of tea, and then all again went merrily till it was time for Lucy to take Hugh off to bed. She did not require to apologise to these friends for leaving them together while she discharged her happy maternal duty.
Mr. Somerset stood on the middle of the rug with his back to the fire. Miss Latimer settled herself in the easy-chair to resume the knitting which she had thrown down during the games.
“Miss Latimer,” said Mr. Somerset rather abruptly, “I don’t think you are a nervous woman.”
The old lady laughed, deftly shifting her needles.
“I don’t think so,” she answered.
“Because if we are to believe what Clementina says, some evil attention is being directed to this house, which can have no other aim but to annoy and terrify, perhaps with hope of robbery at last,” he explained.