“This is nice of you!” he cried; then his father stumped downstairs again, followed by a tall, sweet-faced woman.

“There, Jane,” said he, “there she is.”

I went up to her; she was, indeed, very shy.  “Dear, dear,” was all she said; “deary me, think of this, it’s very kind of you, I’m sure,” squeezing my hand the while as if it had been a sponge.

She led me off through the door to the right, into a comparatively presentable parlour; but her brother took my other hand and pulled me in the opposite direction.

“No, no,” he said; “no, no, we’ll go into the kitchen and have tea.”

“Yes, come,” said Gabriel; “I’m hungry, aren’t you?  Let’s go and find something to eat.”

So we recrossed the hall and passed through a good-sized room which looked like a second-hand bookshop.  Books overflowed the shelves, and lay in piles in every available corner,—­the floor, the table, the old upright piano, the very chairs, were covered with dusty volumes.  Out of this room led the kitchen, which at least looked clean.  A rosy little maid was leaving after the day’s work as we entered.

“Sit down,” said Gabriel’s father to me; “sit down, my dear; you shall have some tea in a minute.”  And he began taking plates down from the dresser.  Miss Norton, meanwhile, had disappeared, and presently returned with a loaf, dragging Gabriel after her.

“I can’t keep that boy out of the larder,” she said plaintively.

Gabriel laughed and fetched the teapot, also a jug and two paper bags.  I thought I had better help, too.  I discovered some knives in the drawer of the table, and set them out.

“Tea or cocoa?” asked Richard Norton, pointing his finger at tea-pot and jug in turn.  I chose cocoa, I can’t think why.

“That’s lucky,” sighed Gabriel; “there’s no tea in the bag.”

He made the cocoa, Jane Norton cut the bread; at last we sat down.  I don’t think I ever enjoyed a meal so much in my life.  They ate voraciously, and we talked meanwhile in the silliest fashion, about nothing at all, laughing until the tears rolled down our cheeks.

My friend is very funny, but his fun is of the kind that cannot bear repeating; taken away from himself, separated from his personality, it would sound merely foolish.  You know what I mean.  I sat next Miss Norton during tea.  When we had done, Gabriel stood up, chair and all, and came beside me.

“What do you think of us?” he asked.  “Aren’t we rather nice?”

“Yes, indeed,” I replied; “and the funny part of it is that I feel as though I’d known you all my life.”

“That’s just how I feel with you,” said Gabriel, and Richard Norton added,—­

“I like you; you’re a nice girl; you don’t turn up your nose at us because we live in our own way.  You’re a nice girl.”

“I like your way of living,” said I, then.  “From what I can see, it seems to me you are about as free as any one can be in this world, and that is the best of all things,—­freedom.”