were delighted with Granfa. It seemed to us that the acquiring of him
was the finest thing we had yet done. This elation of spirit remained with
us during all the drive home. The grey old town was wrapped in a golden
mist of romance; its windows reflected the fire of the sunset. It was not
until we had separated from the Bishop and stood, a group of four, before
Mrs. Handsomebody's house, that dread misgiving took the pith out of our
legs. All of a sudden Granfa loomed bulky and solid; the problem of where
he was to be stowed presented itself. He was not like Giftie to be hidden
in the scullery. He was not even like a white rat that could be secreted
under one's bed till its unfortunate odour resulted in painful research.
No; Granfa must be accounted for, and that soon.

"Better go round to the back," suggested Angel, "and tackle Mary Ellen
first."

So we traversed the chill passage between the tall houses, and softly
lifted the latch of the kitchen door. Mary Ellen was alone, her work done,
her nose buried in a novel of such fine print that it necessitated the
lamp's being perilously near the fringe of frowsy hair that covered her
forehead. We were inside the kitchen before she was recalled from the high
life in which she revelled.

"Is it yersilves?" she exclaimed, with a start. "Sure, you've give me a
nice fright prowlin' about like thaves--and whoiver may be the ould man wid
ye? The mistress'll stand no tramps or beggars about, as well you know."

"He's no tramp or beggar," I retorted, stoutly, "he's Granfa."

"Granfa! Granfa who? Noan o' your nonsense, now, byes. What's the truth
now, spit it out!"

"He's Granfa," I reiterated, desperately, "Our own nice grandfather that we
haven't seen for years, and--he's just come for a nice little visit with
us. Why, Mary Ellen, the Bishop knows him--"

"Known him for years," put in Angel. "Went to Harrow together."

"Ess fay," assented Granfa, eagerly. "Us were boon companions up to
Harrer."

"The Bishop brought him wight here in the pony twap," added The Seraph,
"and we'd all yike a little nushment, please."

Mary Ellen, in spite of herself, was half convinced. Granfa's blue eyes
were so candid; there was an air of dignity about his snow-white locks and
beard, that disarmed hostility.

"Look here, now," said Mary Ellen, in an aside, to us, "he seems a nice
ould gentlemin enough, but think av the throuble ye got us in over Giftie,
sure I won't have yez experimenta