"Do leave off singing nonsense out of tune, and let us listen when the
door opens," said Mrs. Blyth, glad to seize the slightest opportunity
of administering the smallest reproof to Zack.
"Suppose it should be Mr. Gimble, come to deal at last for that picture
of mine that he has talked of buying so long," exclaimed Valentine.
"Suppose it should be my father!" cried Zack, suddenly turning round on
his knees with a very blank face. "Or that infernal old Yollop, with
his gooseberry eyes and his hands full of tracts. They're both of them
quite equal to coming after me and spoiling my pleasure here, just as
they spoil it everywhere else."
"Hush!" said Mrs. Blyth. "The visitor has come in, whoever it is. It
can't be Mr. Gimble, Valentine; he always runs up two stairs at a
time."
"And this is one of the heavy-weights. Not an ounce less than sixteen
stone, I should say, by the step," remarked Zack, letting his muffin
burn while he listened.
"It can't be that tiresome old Lady Brambledown come to worry you again
about altering her picture," said Mrs. Blyth.
"Stop! surely it isn't--" began Valentine. But before he could say
another word, the door opened; and, to the utter amazement of everybody
but the poor girl whose ear no voice could reach, the servant
announced:
"MRS.
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