I daresay mamma would. So we made ourselves as decent-looking as
we could, and our collars didn't look as bad that evening as in the
daylight the next morning.

And then Beryl put her head in at the door and told us to come down to
the drawing-room, where her father was.

'He is not able to go up and down stairs just now,' she said. 'His
rheumatism is very bad. So he stays in the drawing-room, and we dine
earlier than usual for his sake--at seven.'

She went on talking, partly to make us more comfortable, for I knew we
were both looking very shy. And just outside the drawing-room door she
smiled and said, 'Don't be frightened of him, he is the kindest person
in the world.'

[Illustration: THE FRILLS HAD WORKED UP ALL ROUND HIS FACE.--p. 173.]

So he was, I am sure. He had white hair and a thin white face, and he
was sitting in a big arm-chair, and he shook hands kindly, and didn't
seem to mind our being there a bit. Of course, Beryl had explained it
all to him, and it was easy to see that he was most awfully fond of
her, and pleased with everything she did. All the same, I was very glad,
though it sounds horrid, that he couldn't come downstairs. It didn't
seem half so frightening with only Mrs. Wylie and Beryl.

Peterkin got very sleepy before dinner was really over. I think he
nodded once or twice at dessert, though he was very offended when I said
so afterwards. I began to feel jolly tired too, and we were both very
glad to go to bed. There was a fire in our room. 'Miss Wylie had ordered
it because of the fog,' the servant said. Wasn't it kind of her?

We couldn't help laughing at the things they had tried to find for us
instead of proper night things--jackety sort of affairs, with lots of
frills and fuss. I don't know if they belonged to mother Wylie or to
Beryl. But we were too sleepy to mind, though next morning Pete was
awfully offended when I said he looked like Red-Riding Hood's
grandmother, as the frills had worked up all round his face, and he
looked still queerer when he got out of bed, as his robe trailed on the
floor, with his being so short.

He did not wake as early as usual, but I did. And for a minute or two I
_couldn't_ think where I was. And I didn't feel very happy when I did
remember.

The fog had gone, but it still looked gloomy, compared with home. Still
I was glad it was clear, both because I wanted so to go home, and also
because of Margaret's cold. I think that was what I first thoug