“Doesn’t father know yet?” she asked.

“No, miss.”

“Poor father!  Has Aunt Pike really come to stay, Emily?”

“I can’t make out for certain, miss; but if she isn’t going to stay now, she is coming later on.  I gathered that much from the way she talked.  She said it didn’t need a very clever person to see that ’twas high time somebody was here to look after things, instead of me being with my ’ead out of win—­I mean, you all out racing the country to all hours of the night, and nothing in the house fit to eat—­”

Kitty groaned.

“I’ve got to go and get the spare-room ready as soon as she comes out of it,” went on Emily.  “A pretty time for anybody to have to set to to sweep and dust.”

Kitty, though, could not show any great sympathy there; having to sweep and dust seemed to her at that moment such trifling troubles.  “Where is she now, Emily?”

“In the spare-room.”

“Oh, the dust under the bed!” groaned Kitty.  “She is sure to see it; it blows out to meet you every time you move!”

“Never mind that now,” said Dan; “it is pretty dark everywhere.  But we had better do a bunk and clean ourselves up a bit before she sees us,” and he set the example by kicking off his shoes and disappearing like a streak up the stairs.

In another moment the hall was empty, save for eight very dirty shoes and the pile of severe-looking luggage.

To convince Aunt Pike that her presence and care were absolutely unnecessary was the one great aim and object which now filled them all, and as a means to this end their first idea was to dress, act, and talk as correctly and unblamably as boys and girls could.  So, by the time the worthy lady was heard descending, they were all in the drawing-room, seated primly on the stiffest chairs they could find, and apparently absorbed in the books they gazed at with serious faces and furrowed brows.  To the trained eye the “high-water marks” around faces and wrists were rather more apparent and speaking than their interest in their books.  Their heads, too, were strikingly wet and smooth around their brows, but conspicuously tangled and unkempt-looking at the back.

However, on the whole they appeared well-behaved and orderly, and the expression of welcome their faces assumed as soon as their aunt was heard approaching was striking, if a little overdone.  It was unfortunate, though, that they and Emily had forgotten to remove their dirty shoes from the hall, or to light the gas, for Aunt Pike, groping her way downstairs in the dark, stumbled over the lot of them—­stumbled, staggered, and fell!  And of all unyielding things in the world to fall against, the corner of a tin box is perhaps the worst.

The expression of welcome died out of the four faces, their cheeks grew white; Kitty flew to the rescue.

“I’m jolly glad it isn’t my luggage,” murmured Dan, preparing to follow.