As for The Seraph! I could scarcely bear to think of him with his tell-tale sticky little chin.
Voices roused me. Buoyant with animation, they penetrated beyond the closed front door. A loud unknown voice, mingled with those of Angel and The Seraph.
In an instant, I was on my feet, my nose pressed against one of the narrow windows of ruby-coloured glass that were on either side of the hall door. I could see three small red figures in animated conversation on the square grass plot before the house. The largest of the three began to execute a masterly hop, skip and jump on the crimson grass. Above arched the sanguine sky.
I opened the door and closing it softly behind me, stood on the steps.
The newcomer was a sturdy fellow about a year older than Angel. He had a devil-may-care air about him, and he wore, at a rakish angle, a cap, bearing the badge of a well-known school. He turned to me instantly.
"Well," he said, "you're a rum-lookin' pup."
I was rather abashed at such a greeting, but I held my ground. "My name is John," I replied simply.
"Oh, Lord!" he groaned. "John! Don't you know enough to give your surname? Eh?
[225]
