Philip's glue-pots and size-pots were steaming, there were coloured
powders on every chair, Alice and I were laying a coat of invisible
green over the cave-cask, and Philip, in radiant good-humour, was
giving distance to his woodland glades in the most artful manner with
powder-blue, and calling on us for approbation--when the housemaid
came in.
"It's _not_ lunch-time?" cried Alice. "It can't be!"
"Get away, Mary," said Philip, "and tell cook if she puts on any more
meals I'll paint her best cap pea-green. She's sending up luncheons
and dinners all day long now: just because she knows we're busy."
Mary only laughed, and said, "It's a gentleman wants to see you,
Master Philip," and she gave him a card. Philip read it, and we waited
with some curiosity.
"It's a man I met in the train," said he, "a capital fellow. He lives
in the town. His father's a doctor there. Granny must invite him to
the theatricals. Ask him to come here, Mary, and show him the way."
"Oughtn't you to go and fetch him yourself?" said I.
"I can't leave this," said Philip. "He'll be all right. He's as
friendly as possible."
I must say here that "Granny" was our maternal grandmother, with whom
we lived.
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