"Come in, my dear," she said hospitably. "They’re none of ’em down yet, but I can hear the young gentlemen hollerin’ and rampagin’, so they won’t be long——" "Parents want to get her out of the way for a bit, I expect," she thought to herself, "her mamma must get pretty tired of it without no nurse." Herrick followed Mrs. Dew into the dining-room, where breakfast was laid. "One minute, my dear," said that good woman, "I must just pop back to my bacon and eggs, then I’ll come and see to you." But Herrick had not come to see Mrs. Dew. No sooner was she left alone than she sought the steep, narrow staircase and began to climb upstairs, whispering as she went, "You’d better take my hand, Umpy dear." Two doors on the landing were open. The bathroom faced her, empty, and very wet. She walked straight through the second open door on the other side of the landing and came upon Montagu brushing his hair at the glass while Edmund, still in his shirt-sleeves, was practising a handspring on the end of his bed. Montagu saw her reflected in the mirror and in speechless astonishment watched her as she paused well inside the doorway, announcing genially, "We’ve all three come." Edmund’s feet dropped to the floor with a flump. "Mercy goodness!" Montagu ejaculated, and dashed for the door that led into Mr. Wycherly’s room. On this he thumped loudly; without waiting for permission to enter, he opened it just wide enough to thrust in his head, and repeated, "They’ve all three come," in a penetrating whisper. Mr. Wycherly, who was shaving, dropped his razor and turned a soapy and astonished countenance towards Montagu, exclaiming, "What! al——!" when he hastily changed his remark to: "They’ve come to breakfast with us, have they? How exceedingly kind and friendly; run down at once and ask Mrs. Dew to lay three more places." Herrick staring at Edmund, heard this and said slowly: "They don’t generally lay for them." "What?" cried Edmund, immensely interested. "Don’t you have plates and knives and things?" "_I_ do," said Herrick; "at least not knives ’cept a silver one, but they never do. They _will_ be pleased." "But do you mean to tell me," Edmund exclaimed, appalled at the eccentricity of the Wycherly _ménage_ as revealed by their daughter, "that they eat things right off the cloth? Whatever do they do when there’s gravy?" "They never has gravy, poor dears," said Herrick sadly. Edmund sighed. As old Elsa would have said, it was "ayont him"; and they both looked so nice too. It was impossible to imagine Mr. and Mrs. Wycherly gnawing cutlets without so much as a plate between them. He got into his waistcoat and jacket in thoughtful silence. Montagu, who had not paid any attention to these astonishing revelations, being filled with hospitable concern as to whether there would be sufficient bacon and eggs for three extra persons, gave his hair one final thump with the brush and prepared to go downstairs.