s, and jumped
on to the old man's knee, in his own particular fashion, and then
yawned at the company. The old man was startled, and lifted his face
suddenly. It was wet with tears.

"Why, you're crying!" exclaimed the children, with one breath.

"It's very odd," said Robin, fretfully. "I can't think what's the
matter to-night. Mamma was crying too when we were acting, and Papa
said we weren't to tease her with questions, and he kissed her hand,
and I kissed her hand too. And Papa said we must all be very good and
kind to poor dear Mamma, and so I mean to be, she's so good. And I
think we'd better go home, or perhaps she'll be frightened," Robin
added.

"She's so good, is she?" asked the old man. He had put Pax off his
knee, and taken Dora on to it.

"Oh, isn't she!" said Nicholas, swaying his curly head from side to
side as usual.

"She's always good," said Robin, emphatically; "and so's Papa. But I'm
always doing something I oughtn't to," he added, slowly. "But then,
you know, I don't pretend to obey Sarah. I don't care a fig for Sarah;
and I won't obey any woman but Mamma."

"Who's Sarah?" asked the grandfather.

"She's our nurse," said Robin, "and she tells--I mustn't say what she
tells--but it's not the truth. She told one about _you_ the other
day," he added.

"About me?" said the old man.

"She said you were our grandpapa. So then I knew she was telling _you
know what_."

"How did you know it wasn't true?" the old man asked.

"Why, of course," said Robin, "if you were our Mamma's father, you'd
know her, and be very fond of her, and come and see her. And then
you'd be our grandfather, too, and you'd have us to see you, and
perhaps give us Christmas-boxes. I wish you were," Robin added with a
sigh. "It would be very nice."

"Would _you_ like it?" asked the old man of Dora.

And Dora, who was half asleep and very comfortable, put her little
arms about his neck as she was wont to put them round the Captain's,
and said, "Very much."

He put her down at last, very tenderly, almost unwillingly, and left
the children alone. By and by he returned, dressed in the blue cloak,
and took Dora up again.

"I will see you home," he said.

The children had not been missed. The clock had only just struck nine
when there came a knock on the door of the dining-room, where the
Captain and his wife still sat by the Yule log. She said "Come in,"
wearily, thinking it was the frumenty and the Christmas cakes.

But