Hinfants in arms, you might say. There's no
stopping them now. 'Ere they come."
And down the wide stairway streamed the shrieking vanguard of the
Christmas revellers--seven or eight unrestrained youngsters who had
snatched liberty from the nurses the instant Mr. Bingle opened the
play-room door at the top of the house. Down the steps they came,
regardless of stumbles and tumbles--an avalanche of joy.
Diggs, from the doorway, raked the stairway and its squirming horde
with an exploring eye.
"She is coming, sir. Fairly tall and slender, sir, and--"
"Good Lord!" gasped Flanders, helplessly. "This is more than I can
stand. Diggs, do--do men ever faint?"
There was no reply. Three sturdy youngsters collided with Diggs. There
was nothing he could say--with lucidity.
CHAPTER VII
SEARCHERS REWARDED
Miss Fairweather bowed gravely to Flanders as she passed. Diggs
observed her closely. He was conscious of a sensation of
disappointment. He had counted on a scene--an interesting scene.
Circumstances justified something more thrilling than a mere nod of
the head, his intelligence argued, and it was really too bad to have
it turn out so tamely.
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