The silver bars between the slats of the shutters took a golden tinge. Clearly it was to be a fine day, after a week of rain and sleet.
The chimes of the Cathedral sounded. The notes came with penetrating sweetness as though the air were cold and clear. We heard the door of Mary Ellen's room open; she descended the back stairs noisily.
The Seraph turned a somersault in the middle of the bed.
"Cwistmas is coming," he said, trying to stand on his head, "and I want a pony."
We threw ourselves into a general scuffle, and the old-four-poster creaked and the bolster fell to the floor.
Then up the cavernous backstairs came the peal of the front door bell. We heard Mary Ellen drop the poker and run through the house. It was an unheard of hour for the front door bell to ring. We sat up in bed in stiffened attitudes of expectancy. Mary Ellen was mounting the front stair. She rapped loudly at Mrs. Handsomebody's bedroom door. There were whispers. Then Mrs. Handsomebody's voice came decidedly:
"Go about your work with the utmost speed. Say nothing to the boys of this. I shall tell them when they have had their breakfast."
In a moment she appeared at our door in her
[277]
