What was the utter amazement of Randolph and the girls, as they crowded up to discover what he was about, to see—not a brick wall where had been one a moment before, but mere black space.
“Come on!” said their uncle again, stepping into the opening.
Randolph went in after him, and the girls next, not without their misgivings.
“It’s exactly like a dream!”
“Or the Arabian Nights. Pinch me, Bess, to see if I’m asleep!”
As soon as they found themselves in the new passage, they heard the wall close behind them. Half a dozen steps further, and—
“This is my Den!” said Mr. Percival.
The girls rubbed their eyes, and stared silently. This is what they saw:
A small room, perhaps ten feet square. One window, with a deep casement, making a window-seat at least two feet wide. A warm-tinted carpet on the floor, where three Maltese kittens tumbled over each other in solemn play; walls lined with books from floor to ceiling; an open fire of twigs and stiff birch bark, blazing cheerily in a wee fireplace—and in front of it, rocking serenely to and fro with her knitting, aunt Puss! She looked up with her pleasant smile as the young people entered.
“He gave you a good surprise this time, dears, didn’t he?”