Page:The Lark - E Nesbit, 1922.djvu/52

Rh "Poor old gentleman, I really don't blame him. But he might have got the walls scraped. Now let's get out before she comes back. You see it's miles too big for us—we couldn't afford it even if he'd let it. Oh, Jane, don't be an ass—do let's get out of it!"

"Not till I've seen all over it"; and Jane led the way up the dark, shallow stairs. "There must be any number of rooms up here."

There were—and all were furnished and all were dark; not a window but was close shuttered or boarded up. The two girls saw as much of the house as a candle carried hastily through room after darkened room can show.

"I love it, I love it!" Jane said at each new hint of curtain or panel. "I love it all."

"Hopelessly," said Lucilla. "I never thought you'd be one to love in vain. But we haven't seen the yellow-painted room yet."

They found it—a round room, opening out of the drawing-room—and its yellow was even as the yellow of mustard.

"But look at the shape of it," said Jane; "the lovely little book-cases rounded to the shape of the room—no books though, Luce. I'm going to put on my very nicest hat and go and call on that old gentleman."

"Vous en serez pour vos frais," said Lucilla.

"What? Oh, I know, French idiotisms. How it brings it all back! Like yesterday. Whereas it is really to-day. All right, we'll go now."

They carried the candle down and replaced it on the kitchen table and moved to the front door. Jane opened it cautiously, and instantly, with desperate caution, closed it again.

"There's a man coming up the drive!" she said, and at once the instinct of flight caught at them both. Noiseless flying feet skimmed the stairs; they clung together on the landing. Then Lucilla pulled her friend into a dark cupboard.

"Hush!" she whispered, quite unnecessarily. "It's a man—he'll think we're burglars. Be quiet."