g my way out
through the green curtained "keepin'" rooms, towards Grandma's culinary
apartment, thankful for a momentary escape from the heated atmosphere of
the "parlor," when I heard just behind me a voice of the most exquisite
smoothness:--

"Miss Hungerford, allow me."

"Mr. Rollin!" I exclaimed, with an overwhelming sense of the
ludicrousness of the situation: "How dared you come through the room
where they were all sitting and follow me out here! Did Grandma tell you
that I had gone after a little no-back chair for you to sit on?"

"She did," replied Mr. Rollin, with impressive gravity: "and I took it as
most divinely kind of you, too; though, if I might be allowed any choice
in the matter, I think I should be likely to assume a much more graceful
and more easeful and natural position in a chair constructed after the
ordinary pattern, Miss Hungerford, especially as after my exertions in
the kitchen I feel the need of entire repose."

"But this is the only one left," I answered, with suppressed laughter.
"Do you think you can find it, Mr. Rollin?"

"If you should leave me now," replied the fisherman; "I should have
positively no idea whither to direct my steps."

"Then I shall be very happy to get it for you," I said.

"But I could not think," he continued, "of allowing you to pursue your
way through this utter darkness to the extreme rear of the Ark alone. I
beg you to show me the way."

I was not disposed to commit so gross an impropriety as to linger with
Mr. Rollin in "Grandma's kitchen," which we had reached, and through
whose broad, uncurtained windows the moonlight was pouring in with a
clear, fantastic radiance.

"Isn't this glorious!" exclaimed the fisherman, in a tone nearly as
rapturous as Mrs. Barlow's own. "Oh, you don't think of going back now,
Miss Hungerford! After I've mopped the kitchen floor, and braved all
Wallencamp in its lair, and groped my way out through those infernally
black rooms, for the chance of having a few quiet words with you."

Mr. Rollin's eyes were not snaky, nor his manner suggestive of dark
duplicity; yet I always felt a certain unaccountable discomfort while in
his presence, as though there was need of keeping my own conscience
particularly on the alert.

I knew that the group in the parlor would be counting the moments of our
absence.

"How can you ask me--" I began, in a tone of cheerful remonstrance, at the
same time readjusting my glasses to glance about fo