“Oh, the magic-lantern man will do that,” she replied, laughing. “You can call the forfeits--you used to know a lot of forfeits, Rol--and pull crackers and things.”
And have sprawling youngsters climbing my back, and nurse them when they get cross, I thought. But it was of no use demurring before a determined young sister. I must make the best of it.
I was given due notice on the 16th, and cleared my papers away. At Carrie’s suggestion I also took down a print or two--children were so quick at noticing things, she said. Then I had the satisfaction of seeing a Christmas-tree placed in the corner devoted to my armchair, and of being able to look forward to a week or two of occasional pine-needles and grease-spots from toy candles whenever I wanted to read. A hairy man also came with a tool-bag, which he threw on my dining-table, and proceeded to make what seemed to me a radical alteration in my gas system, trailing flexible tubes across the floor, over which I scarcely dared to step. I took my hat and fled, leaving Carrie to do as seemed good to her.
Carrie had made me promise to assist, and at five o’clock we were at the top of the stairs receiving our young guests. Arthur Bassishaw was there, of course--he had been about for the last two days, and had really, Carrie said, been invaluable. Every few minutes a nursemaid arrived with some pink-legged, fluffy little lump, muffled up to its bright eyes. Young Ted Carmichael brought my little friend Chris, who clasped my knees and demanded that I should be a dragon on the spot. Miss Nellie Bassishaw came with half a dozen little Bassishaws, casting a glance at Master Ted that made that young gentleman nervous about his gloves. Altogether by six o’clock some twenty small people were sitting round Carrie’s table, with an attendant maid or two tall behind them, and the noise was just beginning.
Carrie, to do her justice, ordered young Bassishaw about as if he were her own brother, and he assisted with piled-up plates and staggering jellies in the most creditable manner. Master Ted Carmichael, however, was evidently divided in mind as to whether he should consider himself purely a guest, or whether his age qualified him for attendance on the kids, a perplexity in which his palpable devotion to Nellie did not help him much. Nellie was difficult to woo that evening, and was playing off a smaller schoolboy on her half-grown-up admirer in a way that I liked immensely. She has the germs of mischief in her, and is pretty into the bargain. Ted, therefore, moved in a state of unrest--now helping in ministering to younger needs, and now resuming his seat helplessly. There was a speck of something in my memory that made me feel for Ted.