We ruled spaces for the letters to go in, and did it very neatly. When
we went to bed we stuck it in our bedroom window with stamp-paper.
In the morning when Oswald drew up his blind there was quite a crowd of
kids looking at the card. Mrs. Beale came out and shoo-ed them away as
if they were hens. And we did not have to explain the card to her at
all. She never said anything about it. I never knew such a woman as Mrs.
Beale for minding her own business. She said afterwards she supposed
Miss Sandal had told us to put up the card.
Well, two or three days went by, and nothing happened, only we had a
letter from Miss Sandal, telling us how the poor sufferer was groaning,
and one from Father telling us to be good children, and not get into
scrapes. And people who drove by used to look at the card and laugh.
And then one day a carriage came driving up with a gentleman in it, and
he saw the rainbow beauty of our chalked card, and he got out and came
up the path. He had a pale face, and white hair and very bright eyes
that moved about quickly like a bird's, and he was dressed in a quite
new tweed suit that did not fit him very well.
Dora and Alice answered the door before any one had time to knock, and
the author has reason to believe their hearts were beating wildly.
"How much?" said the gentleman shortly.
Alice and Dora were so surprised by his suddenness that they could only
reply--
"Er--er----"
"Just so," said the gentleman briskly as Oswald stepped modestly forward
and said--
"Won't you come inside?"
"The very thing," said he, and came in.
We showed him into the dining-room and asked him to excuse us a minute,
and then held a breathless council outside the door.
"It depends how many rooms he wants," said Dora.
"Let's say so much a room," said Dicky, "and extra if he wants Mrs.
Beale to wait on him."
So we decided to do this. We thought a pound a room seemed fair.
And we went back.
"How many rooms do you want?" Oswald asked.
"All the room there is," said the gentleman.
"They are a pound each," said Oswald, "and extra for Mrs. Beale."
"How much altogether?"
Oswald thought a minute and then said "Nine rooms is nine pounds, and
two pounds a week for Mrs. Beale, because she is a widow."
[Illustration: "HOW MUCH?" SAID THE GENTLEMAN SHORTLY.]
"Done!" said the gentleman. "I'll go and fetch my portmanteaus."
He bounced up and out and got into his carriage and drove away. It was
not till he was finally gone quite beyond recall that Alice suddenly
said--
"But if he has all the rooms where are _we_ to sleep?"
"He must be awfully rich," said H.O., "wanting all those rooms."
"Well, he can't sleep in more than one at once," said Dicky, "however
rich he is. We might wait till he was bedded down and then sleep in the
rooms he didn't want."
But Oswald was firm. He knew that if the man paid for the rooms he must
have them to himself.
"He won't sleep in the kitchen," said Dora; "couldn't we sleep there?"
But we all said we couldn't and wouldn't.