The visitor laughed. He was very little taller than Bell, as she swept on with dignity at the head of the procession. Brown, not quite satisfied to have his _rôle_ taken out of his hands, yet unwilling to leave the children in unknown company, and a little curious himself, and desirous to see what was going on, followed with some perturbation. And there never was a housekeeper more grandiose in description than Bell proved herself, or more eloquently confused in her dates and details. They went over all the house, even into the bedrooms, for the stranger’s curiosity was inexhaustible. He learned all sorts of particulars about the family, lingering over every picture and every chamber. When the boys came in, calling loudly for their sisters, he put his glass in his eye and examined them, as they rushed up the great staircase, where a whispered but quite audible, consultation took place. “I say, we want our dinner,” cried Harry. “We’re after a wasps’ nest down in the Brentwood Hollow, and if you don’t make haste, you’ll lose all the fun.” “Oh, a wasps’ nest!” cried Bell; “but we can’t--we can’t: for here is a gentleman who says he is a relation, and we’re showing him over the house.” “Such a funny little gentleman,” said Marie, “and he says he’s got some sweetmeats (what does one mean by sweetmeats?) for me.” “I don’t care for your gentleman; I want my dinner,” cried Harry, whose boots were all over mud from the Brentwood swamp. They both brought in a whiff of fresh air like a fresh breeze into the stately house. “Miss Isabel,” said Brown, coming forward, and speaking in a stage whisper, while the stranger, with his glass in his eye, calmly contemplated all these communings from above, “if the gentleman is really a relation, I don’t think my lady would mind if you asked him to stay lunch.” To stay lunch! This took away the children’s breath. “It is a bore to have a man when he doesn’t belong to you,” said Roland. “He looks a queer little beggar,” said Harry. “I don’t think I like the looks of him.” “But he is quite nice,” said the little girls in a breath. Then Bell suddenly gave a lamentable cry-- “Oh, you boys, it is no use even thinking of the wasps’ nest. We have all got to go to the rectory to the school-feast.” This calamity put the little gentlemen out of their heads. The boys resisted wildly, but the girls began to think better of it, arguing that it was a party, though only a parish party. The introduction of this subject delayed the decision of the question about lunch, until at last a violent appeal from Harry-- “I say, Brown! _can’t_ we have our dinner?” brought about a crisis. “You go and ask _him_ to come, Harry,” said Bell, seized with an access of shyness, and pushing her brother forward. “You are the biggest.” “Ask him yourself,” cried the boy. This difficult question however was solved by the little gentleman himself, who came forward, still with his glass in his eye.