"The trouble will be about where you are to sleep--unless it's with the boys. The rooms are all anyhow, and I'm sure I don't know where the beds are." "I suppose there are servants in the house?" She shook her head. "No. The boys thought that they were nuisances so we got rid of them. The last went yesterday. She wouldn't do any work, so we thought she'd better go." "Under those circumstances I think it probable that you were right. Then am I to understand that there are children?" "Rather!" As she spoke there came a burst of laughter from the other end of the passage. I spun round. No one was in sight. She explained. "They're waiting round the corner. Perhaps we'd better have them here. You people, you'd better come and let me introduce you to Mr. Christopher." A procession began to appear from round the corner of boys and girls. In front was a girl of about sixteen. She advanced with outstretched hand and an air of self-possession which took me at a disadvantage. "I'm Bessie. I'm sorry we kept you waiting at the door, but the fact is that we thought it was Eliza's brother who had come to insult us again." "Pray, don't mention it. I am glad that it was not Eliza's brother." "So am I. He is a dreadful man." I shook hands with the rest of them. There were six more, four boys and two girls. They formed a considerable congregation as they stood eyeing me with inquiring glances. Madge was the first to speak. "I wondered all along if he would take it as a joke or not, and you see he hasn't. I thought all the time that it was a risky thing to do." "I like that! You keep your thoughts to yourself then. It was you proposed it. You said you'd been reading about something of the kind in a story, and you voted for our advertising ourselves for a lark." The speaker was the biggest boy, a good-looking youngster, with sallow cheeks and shrewd black eyes. "But, Rupert, I never meant it to go so far as this." "How far did you mean it to go then? It was your idea all through. You sent in the advertisement, you wrote the letters, and now he's here. If you didn't mean it, why didn't you stop his coming?" "Rupert!" The girls cheeks were crimson. Bessie interposed. "The thing is that as he is here it's no good worrying about whose fault it is. We shall simply have to make the best of it." Then, to me, "I suppose you really have come to stay?" "I confess that I had some notion of the kind--to spend an old-fashioned Christmas." At this there was laughter, chiefly from the boys. Rupert exclaimed: "A nice sort of old-fashioned Christmas you'll find it will be. You'll be sorry you came before it's through." "I am not so sure of that." There appeared to be something in my tone which caused a touch of silence to descend upon the group. They regarded each other doubtfully, as if in my words a reproof was implied. Bessie was again the spokeswoman.