oe from her closet, squeaking.
Whelpdale from under his bed. The Baron allowed him time to put on a
pair of breeches wrong side out. The cook came, and you could hear her
panting all the way down from the attic. Out came the nine house-maids
with hair in curl-papers. The seven footmen followed. Meeson and
Welsby had forgotten their wigs. The coachman and grooms and
stable-boys came in horse-blankets and boots. And last in the
procession, old Popham, one calf securely strapped on, and the other
dangling disgracefully. Breathless they huddled behind the Baron, who
strode to the cellar, where he flung the door open. Over in a corner
was a hideous monster, and every man fell against his neighbour and
shrieked. At which the monster roared most alarmingly, and all fell
together again. Young Geoffrey stood in the middle of the cellar, and
said not a word. One end of a chain was in his hand, and he waited
mighty stiff for the Baron to speak. But when he saw Miss Elaine come
stealing in after the rest so quiet and with her eyes fixed upon him,
his own eyes shone wonderfully.

At the sight of the Dragon, Sir Godfrey forgot his late excitement,
and muttered "Bless my soul!" Then he stared at the beast for some
time.

"Can--can't he do anything?" he inquired.

"No," said Geoffrey shortly; "he can't."

"Not fly up at one, for instance?"

"I have broken his wing," replied the youth.

"I--I'd like to look at him. Never saw one before," said the Baron;
and he took two steps. Then gingerly he moved another step.

"Take care!" Geoffrey cried, with rapid alarm.

The monster moved, and from his nostrils (as it seemed) shot a plume
of flame.

Popham clutched the cook, and the nine house-maids sank instantly into
the arms of the seven footmen without the slightest regard to how
unsatisfactorily nine goes into seven.

"Good heavens!" said the Baron, getting behind a hogshead, "what a
brute!"

"Perhaps it might be useful if I excommunicated him," said the Rev.
Hucbald, who had come in rather late, with his clerical frock-coat
buttoned over his pyjamas.

"Pooh!" said the Baron. "As if he'd care for that."

"Very few men can handle a dragon," said Geoffrey, unconcernedly, and
stroked his upper lip, where a kindly-disposed person might see there
was going to be a moustache some day.

"I don't know exactly what you mean to imply by that, young man," said
the Baron, coming out from behind the hogshead and puffing somewhat
pompou