‘Well, you’ve had your dinner? Did she give you any dessert?’ ‘This is my dessert,’ I said, holding up the book. ‘It’s far more than--’ ‘Far more than your desert,’ she pursued, ‘if you prefer it to me.’ ‘I looked for you first,’ I said defensively. ‘Where?’ ‘In the closet there.’ ‘You didn’t think I was going to wait there, did you? Why the very spiders are hanging dead in their own webs in there. But here’s some dessert for you--if you’re as fond of apples as most boys,’ she added, taking a small rosy-cheeked beauty from her pocket. I accepted it, but somehow did not quite relish being lumped with boys in that fashion. As I ate it, which I should have felt bound to do even had it been less acceptable in itself, she resumed-- ‘Wouldn’t you like to see the company arrive? That’s what I came for. I wasn’t going to ask Goody Wilson.’ ‘Yes, I should,’ I answered; ‘but Mrs Wilson told me to keep here, and not get in their way.’ ‘Oh! I’ll take care of that. We shan’t go near them. I know every corner of the place--a good deal better than Mrs Wilson. Come along, Wilfrid--that’s your name, isn’t it?’ ‘Yes, it is. Am I to call you Clara?’ ‘Yes, if you are good--that is, if you like. I don’t care what you call me. Come along.’ I followed. She led me into the armoury. A great clang of the bell in the paved court fell upon our ears. ‘Make haste,’ she said, and darted to the door at the foot of the little stair. ‘Mind how you go,’ she went on. ‘The steps are very much worn. Keep your right shoulder foremost.’