-opened house.
It was not until they stood beneath the great portico that their vague
discomfort got the upper hand, and Mrs. Sartin agreed without demur to
Jessie's suggestion that they should seek a smaller entrance. As they
were turning away the great door swung open and Christopher came out.

"How jolly of you to be so punctual," he cried, greeting them warmly.
"Where were you off to? Did you think I wasn't at home because the
blinds were down? They don't open all the house for me," he added,
leading the way through the great hall. "I live on the garden side."

Mrs. Sartin had no mind to hurry: she wanted to take in the solid
beauties as she passed. Jessie plucked her nervously by the sleeve
seeing Christopher was outpacing them, and terrified of being left in
that labyrinth of corridor without a guide. However, once within the
sunny little room with its homely comforts and Christopher's kindly
self for host, they regained their wonted composure.

The smallness of the staff left in charge at Aston House gave
Christopher an excuse for dispensing with the services of Burton, the
footman, and the meal was a great success. It never occurred to the
host to think these good kind friends of his in any way out of place
here. His sense of humour was quite unruffled, nay, he was even
genuinely pleased to see the good, ample Martha, the strings of her
black bonnet untied, her face wreathed in smiles, vigorously clearing
out a tart dish, and Jessie's homely features lit up with passive
enjoyment, her brown eyes shining beneath the ridiculous curls.

They had chosen the Hippodrome for their afternoon's amusement, and
there was plenty of time after lunch to show them some of the glories
of Aston House. Christopher led them through the shrouded rooms, but
the treasures he displayed to view were not so much those of artistic
merit as those which had pleased his own boyish fancy years before.
Passing down a corridor he stopped by a remote closed door. Jessie was
examining some Wedgewood plaques a little way off. Christopher looked
at Mrs. Sartin with a queer little smile.

"When I was a kid," he said rather shamefacedly, "I used to play that
my mother was going about the place with me. You see there were no
women-folk, and the pretence seemed to help things. I used to make it
seem more real by always starting here, and pretending that was her
room. It was the only door that was always locked."

"Lor', what a queer idea!" ejacu