“Of course I understand,” she exclaimed, “and I can do it.  You mean you don’t want any of those young men to get a chance to speak to Miss Asher.  Do you include Mr. Lancaster?  Or shall I only keep off the others?”

“I include all of them,” said Mrs. Easterfield.  “Don’t let any of them have a chance to speak to her until I can come down.  And hurry!  Here is one coming now.”

Hurrying down-stairs, the secretary glanced into the library.  There she saw Mrs. Fox in one armchair, and Olive in another, both reading.  In the hall were the two little girls, busily engaged in harnessing two small chairs to a large armchair by means of a ball of pink yarn.  Outside, about a hundred yards away, she saw Mr. Hemphill irresolutely approaching the house.  Miss Raleigh’s mind, frequently dormant, was very brisk and lively when she had occasion to waken it.  She made a dive toward the children.

“Dear little ones,” she cried, “don’t you want to come out under the trees and have the good Mr. Hemphill tell you a story?  I know he wants to tell you one, and it is about a witch and two pussy-cats and a kangaroo.  Come along.  He is out there waiting for us.”  Down dropped the ball of yarn, and with exultant cries each little girl seized an outstretched hand of the secretary, and together they ran over the grass to meet the good Mr. Hemphill.

Of course he was obliged to want to tell them a story; they expected it of him, and they were his employer’s children.  To be sure he had on mind something very practical and sensible he wished to say to Miss Olive, which had come to him during his solitary walk, and which he did not believe she would object to hearing, although he had said so much to her quite recently.  As soon as he should begin to speak she would know that this was something she ought to know.  It was about his mother, who had an income of her own, and did not in the least depend upon her son.  Miss Olive would certainly agree with him that it was proper for him to tell her this.

But the little girls seized his hands and led him away to a bench, where, having seated him almost forcibly, each climbed upon a knee.  The good Mr. Hemphill sent a furtive glare after Miss Raleigh, who, with that smile of gentle gratification which comes to one after having just done a good deed to another, sauntered slowly away.

“Don’t come back again,” cried out the older of the little girls.  “He was put out in the last story, and we want this to be a long one.  And remember, Mr, Rupert, it is to be about a witch and two pussy-cats—­”

“And a kangaroo,” added the other.

At the front door the secretary met Miss Asher, just emerging.  “Isn’t that a pretty picture” she said, pointing to the group under the trees.

Olive looked at them and smiled.  “It is beautiful,” she said; “a regular family composition.  I wish I had a kodak.”

“Oh, that would never do!” exclaimed Miss Raleigh.  “He is just as sensitive as he can be, and, of course, it’s natural.  And the dear little things are so glad to get him to themselves so that they can have one of the long, long stories they like so much.  May I ask what that is you are working, Miss Asher?”