d indignantly. "I'd rather sit in Mrs. Carter's parlor till
night."
"And I would advise you to," he said. "No use making gossip for the
village folks. They have enough to talk about as it is."
Not exactly seeing the force of this reasoning, but quite willing to be
left to my own devices for a little while, I pointed to a locksmith's
shop I saw near by, and bade him put me down there.
With a sniff I declined to interpret into a token of disapproval, he
drove me up to the shop and awkwardly assisted me to alight.
"Trunk key missing?" he ventured to inquire before getting back into his
seat.
I did not think it necessary to reply, but walked immediately into the
shop. He looked dissatisfied at this, but whatever his feelings were he
refrained from any expression of them, and presently mounted to his
place and drove off. I was left confronting the decent man who
represented the lock-fitting interests in X.
I found some difficulty in broaching my errand. Finally I said:
"Miss Knollys, who lives up the road, wishes a key fitted to one of her
doors. Will you come or send a man to her house to-day? She is too
occupied to see about it herself."
The man must have been struck by my appearance, for he stared at me
quite curiously for a minute. Then he gave a hem and a haw and said:
"Certainly. What kind of a door is it?" When I had answered, he gave me
another curious glance and seemed uneasy to step back to where his
assistant was working with a file.
"You will be sure to come in time to have the lock fitted before night?"
I said in that peremptory manner of mine which means simply, "I keep my
promises and expect you to keep yours."
His "Certainly" struck me as a little weaker this time, possibly because
his curiosity was excited. "Are you the lady from New York who is
staying with them?" he asked, stepping back, seemingly quite unawed by
my positive demeanor.
"Yes," said I, thawing a trifle; "I am Miss Butterworth."
He looked at me almost as if I were a curiosity.
"And did you sleep there last night?" he urged.
I thought it best to thaw still more.
"Of course," I said. "Where do you think I would sleep? The young ladies
are friends of mine."
He rapped abstractedly on the counter with a small key he was holding.
"Excuse me," said he, with some remembrance of my position toward him as
a stranger, "but weren't you afraid?"
"Afraid?" I echoed. "Afraid in Miss Knollys' house?"
"Why, then, do
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