was in danger of feeling frightened, and he went to a chair and sat down. He could hear nothing except the ticking of a clock. He must have been here fully half an hour when the key turned in the lock and the old servant put in his head.
"Follow me, boy," he directed.
Peewee got up belligerently and followed him up a winding stair into the most luxurious hall that he had ever seen. There were dark pictures on the wall which seemed very old; there were hangings of dim-colored cloths into which figures of mounted men fighting with swords had been woven. The negro led him across the hall to a room with books about its walls—a library more luxurious even than the hall, with spindling reading-lamps of bronze and great padded chairs and couches. He hung back, recognizing that whoever he was being taken to must be in that room, and his heart stopped as the servant pushed him in, for the person awaiting him was Mrs. Markym.
She flushed eagerly at sight of him and seemed to check herself. Her first interest in him,
