Mr. Laurence Fairfax's door was
in the most remote corner, up a semi-circular flight of steps, guarded
on either side by an iron railing.
As the two ladies approached the steps a young countrywoman came down
them, saying in a mingled strain of persuasion and threat, "Come, Master
Justus: if you don't come along this minute, I'll tell your granma." And
a naughty invisible voice made an answer with lisping defiance, "Well,
go, Sally, go. Be quick! go before your shoes wear out."
Mrs. Stokes, rounding her pretty eyes and pretty mouth, cried softly,
"Oh, what a very rude little boy!" And the very rude little boy
appeared in sight, hustled coaxingly behind by the stout respectable
housekeeper of Mr. Laurence Fairfax. When he saw the strange ladies he
stood stock-still and gazed at them as bold as Hector, and they gazed at
him again in mute amazement--a cherub of four years old or thereabouts,
with big blue eyes and yellow curls. When he had satisfied himself with
gazing, he descended the steps and set off suddenly at a run for the
archway. The housekeeper had a flushed, uneasy smile on her face as she
recognized Mrs. Stokes--a smile of amused consternation, which the
little lady's shocked grimace provoked. Bessie herself laughed in
looking at her again, and the housekeeper rallied her composure enough
to say, "Oh, the self-will and naughtiness there is in boys, ma'am! But
you know it, having boys of your own!"
"Too well, Mrs.
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