I--well, then you came, you see, and--I assure you I--well, it was the
most embarrassing--I'm coming now."

The door opened. The two in the sitting room huddled close together,
Keziah holding the broom like a battle-ax, ready for whatsoever might
develop. From the dimness of the tightly shuttered study stepped the
owner of the voice, a stranger, a young man, his hair rumpled, his
tie disarranged, and the buttons of his waistcoat filling the wrong
buttonholes. Despite this evidence of a hasty toilet in semidarkness, he
was not unprepossessing. Incidentally, he was blushing furiously.

"I'm--I'm sure I beg your pardon, ladies," he stammered. "I scarcely
know what to say to you. I--"

His eyes becoming accustomed to the light in the sitting room, he was
now able to see his captors more clearly. He looked at Keziah, then at
Miss Van Horne, and another wave of blushes passed from his collar up
into the roots of his hair. Grace blushed, too, though, as she perfectly
well knew, there was no reason why she should.

Mrs. Coffin did not blush. This young fellow, although evidently not a
tramp or a burglar, had caused her some moments of distinct uneasiness,
and she resented the fact.

"Well," she observed rather tartly, "I'm sorry you don't know what to
say, but perhaps you might begin by telling us who you are and what you
mean by makin' a--er--dressin' room of a house that don't belong to
you, just because you happened to find the door unlocked. After that
you might explain why you didn't speak up when we first come, instead
of keepin' so mighty quiet. That looks kind of suspicious to me, I must
say."

The stranger's answer was prompt enough now. It was evident he resented
the suspicion.

"I didn't speak," he said, "because you took me by surprise and I
wasn't, as I explained--er--presentable. Besides, I was afraid of
frightening you. I assure you I hurried as fast as I could, quietly, and
when you began to talk"--his expression changed and there was a twitch
at the corner of his mouth--"I tried to hurry still faster, hoping you
might not hear me and I could make my appearance--or my escape--sooner.
As for entering the house--well, I considered it, in a way, my house; at
least, I knew I should live in it for a time, and--"

"Live in it?" repeated Keziah. "LIVE in it? Why! mercy on us! you don't
mean to say you're--"

She stopped to look at Grace. That young lady was looking at her with
an expression which, as it exp