"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 a 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 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 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 fond of her, and come and 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 round 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 sat still 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!