"Which is Dora?" asked the old man in a strange, sharp tone.
"Here she is," said Robin and Nicholas in one breath, as they dragged
her forward.
"She's the Doctor," said Robin, "and you can't see her face for her
things. Dor, take off your cap and pull back that hood. There! Oh, it
_is_ like her!"
It was the portrait of her mother as a child; but of this the nursery
mummers knew nothing. The old man looked as the peaked cap and hood fell
away from Dora's face and fair curls, and then he uttered a sharp cry,
and buried his head upon his hands. The boys stood stupefied, but Dora
ran up to him, and putting her little hands on his arms, said, in
childish pitying tones, "Oh, I am so sorry! Have you got a headache? May
Robin put the shovel in the fire for you? Mamma has hot shovels for her
headaches." And though the old man did not speak or move, she went on
coaxing him, and stroking his head, on which the hair was white. At this
moment Pax took one of his unexpected runs, and jumped on to the old
man's knee, in his own particular fashion, and then yawned at the
company. The old man was startled, and lifted his face suddenly. It was
wet with tears.
"Why, you're crying!" exclaimed the children with one breath.
"It's very odd," said Robin, fretfully. "I can't think what's the matter
to-night. Mamma was crying too when we were acting, and papa said we
weren't to tease her with questions, and he kissed her hand, and I
kissed her hand too. And papa said we must all be very good and kind to
poor dear mamma, and so I mean to be, she's so good. And I think we'd
better go home, or perhaps she'll be frightened," Robin added.
"She's so good, is she?" asked the old man. He had put Pax off his
knee, and taken Dora on to it.
"Oh, isn't she!" said Nicholas, swaying his curly head from side to side
as usual.
"She's always good," said Robin, emphatically; "and so's papa. But I'm
always doing something I oughtn't to," he added, slowly. "But then, you
know, I don't pretend to obey Sarah. I don't care a fig for Sarah; and I
won't obey any woman but mamma."
"Who's Sarah?" asked the grandfather.
"She's our nurse," said Robin, "and she tells--I mustn't say what she
tells--but it's not the truth. She told one about _you_ the other day,"
he added.
"About me?" said the old man.
"She said you were our grandpapa. So then I knew she was telling _you
know what_."
"How did you know it wasn't true?" the old man asked.
"Why, of course," said Robin, "if you were our mamma's father, you'd
know her, and be very fond of her, and come to see her. And then you'd
be our grandfather, too, and you'd have us to see you, and perhaps give
us Christmas-boxes. I wish you were," Robin added with a sigh. "It would
be very nice."
"Would _you_ like it?" asked the old man of Dora.
And Dora, who was half asleep and very comfortable, put her little arms
about his neck as she was wont to put them around the Captain's, and
said, "Very much."
He put her down at last, very tenderly, almost unwillingly, and left the
children alone. By-and-by he returned, dressed in the blue cloak, and
took Dora up again.
"I will see you home," he said.
The children had not been missed. The clock had only just struck nine
when there came a knock on the door of the dining-room, where the
Captain and his wife still sat by the Yule log. She said "Come in,"
wearily, thinking it was the frumenty and the Christmas cakes.
But it was her father, with her child in his arms!