been a prison. Then the door was opened by an elderly, timid-looking
woman, who held a tallow candle above her head.

"Who's there?" she said, "at this time of night."

"We're Christmas mummers," said Robin, stoutly; "we didn't know the way
to the back door, but----"

"And don't you know better than to come here?" said the woman. "Be off
with you, as fast as you can."

"You're only the servant," said Robin. "Go and ask your master and
mistress if they wouldn't like to see us act. We do it very well."

"You impudent boy, be off with you!" repeated the woman. "Master'd no
more let you nor any other such rubbish set foot in this house----"

"Woman!" shouted a voice close behind her, which made her start as if
she had been shot, "who authorizes you to say what your master will or
will not do, before you've asked him? The boy is right. You _are_ the
servant, and it is not your business to choose for me whom I shall or
shall not see."

"I meant no harm, sir, I'm sure," said the housekeeper; "but I thought
you'd never----"

"My good woman," said her master, "if I had wanted somebody to think for
me, you're the last person I should have employed. I hire you to obey
orders, not to think."

"I'm sure, sir," said the housekeeper, whose only form of argument was
reiteration, "I never thought you would have seen them----"

"Then you were wrong," shouted her master. "I will see them. Bring them
in."

He was a tall, gaunt old man, and Robin stared at him for some minutes,
wondering where he could have seen somebody very like him. At last he
remembered. It was the old gentleman of the blue cloak.

The children threw off their wraps, the housekeeper helping them, and
chattering ceaselessly, from sheer nervousness.

"Well, to be sure," said she, "their dresses are pretty, too. And they
seem quite a better sort of children, they talk quite genteel. I might
ha' knowed they weren't like common mummers, but I was so flusterated
hearing the bell go so late, and----"

"Are they ready?" said the old man, who had stood like a ghost in the
dim light of the flaring tallow candle, grimly watching the proceedings.

"Yes, sir. Shall I take them to the kitchen, sir?"

"----for you and the other idle hussies to gape and grin at? No. Bring
them to the library," he snapped, and then stalked off, leading the way.

The housekeeper accordingly led them to the library, and then withdrew,
nearly falling on her face as she left the room by