‘My dear boy--Master Cumbermede, I should say, I am sorry I have not been able to get to you sooner. One thing after another has kept me on my legs till I’m ready to drop. The cook is as tiresome as cooks only can be. But come along; I’ve got a mouthful of dinner for you at last, and a few minutes to eat my share of it with you, I hope.’ I followed without a word, feeling a little guilty, but only towards Mrs Wilson, not towards myself, if my reader will acknowledge the difference--for I did not feel that I ought to betray Miss Clara. We returned as we came; and certainly whatever temper the cook might be in, there was nothing amiss with the dinner. Had there been, however, I was far too hungry to find fault with it. ‘Well, how have you enjoyed yourself, Master Wilfrid? Not very much, I am afraid. But really I could not help it,’ said Mrs Wilson. ‘I couldn’t have enjoyed myself more,’ I answered. ‘If you will allow me, I’ll go back to the library as soon as I’ve done my dinner.’ ‘But it’s almost dark there now.’ ‘You wouldn’t mind letting me have a candle, Mrs Wilson?’ ‘A candle, child! It would be of no use. The place wouldn’t light up with twenty candles.’ ‘But I don’t want it lighted up. I could read by one candle as well as by twenty.’ ‘Very well. You shall do as you like. Only be careful, for the old house is as dry as tinder, and if you were to set fire to anything, we should be all in a blaze in a moment.’ ‘I will be careful, Mrs Wilson. You may trust me. Indeed you may.’ She hurried me a little over my dinner. The bell in the court rang loudly. ‘There’s some of them already! That must be the Simmonses. They’re always early, and they always come to that gate--I suppose because they haven’t a carriage of their own, and don’t like to drive into the high court in a chaise from the George and Pudding.’ ‘I’ve quite done, ma’am: may I go now?’ ‘Wait till I get you a candle.’ She took one from a press in the room, lighted it, led me once more to the library, and there left me with a fresh injunction not to be peeping out and getting in the way of the visitors. CHAPTER XIII. THE LEADS. The moment Mrs Wilson was gone, I expected to see Clara peep out from behind the tapestry in the corner; but as she did not appear, I lifted it, and looked in. There was nothing behind but a closet almost filled with books, not upon shelves, but heaped up from floor to ceiling. There had been just room, and no more, for Clara to stand between the tapestry and the books. It was of no use attempting to look for her--at least I said so to myself, for as yet the attraction of an old book was equal to that of a young girl. Besides, I always enjoyed waiting--up to a certain point. Therefore I resumed my place on the floor, with the _Seven Champions_ in one hand, and my chamber-candlestick in the other. I had for the moment forgotten Clara in the adventures of St. Andrew of Scotland, when the _silking_ of her frock aroused me. She was at my side.