She closed the window, smiling to herself, stole through the adjoining doorway, and saw that her grandfather was still asleep. Then she busied herself in putting the little sitting-room to rights, reset the table for the morning meal, watered the stocks, and finally took up the crystal and looked into it with awe, wondering why the Cobbler could see so much, and she only the distorted reflection of her own face. So interested, however, for once, did she become in the inspection of this mystic globe, that she did not notice the dawn pass into broad daylight, nor hear a voice at the door below,--nor, in short, take into cognition the external world, till a heavy tread shook the floor, and then, starting, she beheld the Remorseless Baron, with a face black enough to have darkened the crystal of Dr. Dee himself. “Ho, ho,” said Mr. Rugge, in hissing accents which had often thrilled the threepenny gallery with anticipative horror. “Rebellious, eh?--won’t come? Where’s your grandfather, baggage?” Sophy let fall the crystal--a mercy it was not brokenand gazed vacantly on the Baron. “Your vile scamp of a grandfather?” SOPHY (with spirit).--“He is not vile. You ought to be ashamed of yourself speaking so, Mr. Rugge!” Here simultaneously, Mr. Waife, hastily indued in his gray dressing-gown, presented himself at the aperture of the bedroom door, and the Cobbler on the threshold of the sitting-room. The Comedian stood mute, trusting perhaps to the imposing effect of his attitude. The Cobbler, yielding to the impulse of untheatric man, put his head doggedly on one side, and with both hands on his hips said, “Civil words to my lodgers, master, or out you go!” The Remorseless Baron glared vindictively, first at one and then at the other; at length he strode up to Waife, and said, with a withering grin, “I have something to say to you; shall I say it before your landlord?” The Comedian waved his hand to the Cobbler. “Leave us, my friend; I shall not require you. Step this way, Mr. Rugge.” Rugge entered the bedroom, and Waife closed the door behind him. “Anan,” quoth the Cobbler, scratching his head. “I don’t quite take your grandfather’s giving in. British ground here! But your Ascendant cannot surely be in such malignant conjunction with that obstreperous tyrant as to bind you to him hand and foot. Let’s see what the crystal thinks of it. ‘Take it up gently, and come downstairs with me.” “Please, no; I’ll stay near Grandfather,” said Sophy, resolutely. “He sha’n’t be left helpless with that rude man.”