The quick glance he gave increased the sudden chill of his spirits. He saw Mr. Marrapit standing against the mantelshelf--dressing-gowned, hands behind back, face most intensely grim; his glance shifted and he froze, for it rested upon Mrs. Major--hidden by a table from the waist downwards, prim, bolt upright in a chair, face most intensely grim; his eyes passed her and now goggled in new bewilderment, for they took in his Mary--seated upon the extreme edge of the sofa, a white tooth upon lower lip, face most intensely woebegone. George stood perfectly still. Like the full, deep note of a huge bell, Mr. Marrapit's voice came booming through the fearful atmosphere. “Well?” boomed Mr. Marrapit. The cat beneath George's arm wriggled. Boom and wriggle touched George back to action from the fear into which the invisible something and the fearful panorama of faces had struck him. After all--let have happened what might have happened--he had the cat! He swung the creature round into his hands; outstretched it. He took a step forward. “Uncle!” he cried, “uncle, I have found the Rose!” “Hem!” said Mrs. Major on a short jerk. From Mary there came a violent double sniff. George stood perfectly still; the unseen horror he felt to be rushing upon him, but it remained invisible. With considerably less confidence he repeated: “The Rose, uncle.” “Hem!” said Mrs. Major on a yet shorter jerk; from Mary a double sniff yet more violent. Mr. Marrapit raised a white hand. “Hark!” said Mr. Marrapit. Alarmed, his nerves unstrung, with straining ears George listened. The tense atmosphere made him ajump for outward sounds. “Hark!” boomed Mr. Marrapit; lowered the warning hand; at George directed a long finger. “Are you not afraid that you will hear upon the threshold the footsteps of the young men who will come in, wind you up, and carry you out?” “What on earth--?” George asked. Mr. Marrapit poked the extended finger towards him. “Ananias!” he boomed. He poked at my quivering Mary. “Sapphira!” “Hem!” said Mrs. Major. “Hem!” George recovered. “Is this a joke?” he asked. “I tell you--look for yourself--I have found the Rose.” Mr. Marrapit stooped to Mrs. Major's lap, hidden by the table. With a most queenly creature in his arms he stood upright. “Here is the Rose,” said he. Instantly George forgot all that had immediately passed. Instantly he remembered that a bogus Rose was what he fully expected to see. Instantly fear fled. Instantly assurance returned. In a full and confident note, “Uncle,” he said, “you have been deceived!” His words let loose a torrent upon him. Mr. Marrapit with one arm clasped to his breast the cat he had raised from Mrs. Major's lap. Alternately raising and lowering the other hand, his white hair seeming to stream, his eyes flashing, he took on, to George's eyes, the appearance of an enraged prophet bellowing over the cities of the Plain.