Just as she did so, Hilary was passing through the hall towards the dining-room, intent on his desire somehow to implant in Mrs. Pilton’s receptive mind the idea that Sabrina must be allowed to come and go in his room as she chose. The hall was floored with stone, and the carpet left off a few feet on the near side of the dining-room threshold. The dining-room door, though unlatched, stood only half open. Aunt Effie, peering out from the drawing room, heard footsteps leave the carpet and cross the stone floor, and saw the heavy dining-room door pushed back as by a hasty hand.

Aunt Effie felt a little faint.

That was bad, thought Hilary, reaching the dark sanctuary of the dining-room with relief. I oughtn’t to upset Aunt Effie, I’m unpopular enough as it is, on account of the room itself, without giving Bella fits on the stairs again. Perhaps I shouldn’t have come down here at all. What conceivable good can it do....

He paused in the pantry outside the swing door into the kitchen and listened. No voices. He pushed open the door an inch so that he could see into the lighted kitchen. Mrs. Pilton sat alone with her knitting. Recklessly he pushed the door further open, holding it back with his hand.

“Mrs. Pilton,” he said uncertainly, “where’s the key?”

She looked up towards him silently, unstartled, her dark, secretive face never losing its matter-of-fact calm as she beheld the odd behavior of the swing door.

“Give her the key, there’s a lamb,” he said.

Her eyes returned to the needles again, and the small, unhurried clicking resumed.

“You’d best go away now, Master Hilary,” she remarked quietly. “Jennie only went out to get the linen off the bushes.”

“She’d stop grieving—I swear she would—if only you’d let her come and go as usual—”

Jennie’s quick footsteps in the scullery—Jennie’s precipitate arrival in the doorway, her arms full of unfolded towels— “Lor’, what a night—black as your pocket! What’s the matter, seen a ghost?”

Her eyes went to where the swing door still hung open, and as she looked it dropped silently back into place.

Jennie gave a small, surprised squeak above the armload of linen.

“Be quiet,” said Mrs. Pilton sharply. “I didn’t see anything.”

Hilary faded away backwards into the nice dark dining-room. This wasn’t doing anybody any good. Twice over he’d put his foot in it tonight. Better get back where he belonged. I’ll be clanking chains and howling down the chimneys next, he thought. Well, anyway, I don’t have to carry my head under my arm.