here are you?"

It was the voice of an old lady, and yet it had something in it familiar
to Keith.

Mrs. Wentworth rose, smiling.

"Here I am in the drawing-room," she said, raising her voice the least
bit. "It is my cousin, a dear old friend and schoolmate," she explained
to Keith. "Here I am. Come in here." She advanced to the door,
stretching out her hand to some one who was coming down the stair.

"Oh, dear, this great, grand house will be the death of me yet!"
exclaimed the other lady, as she slowly descended.

"Why, it is not any bigger than yours," protested Mrs. Wentworth.

"It's twice as large, and, besides, I was born in that and learned all
its ups and downs and passages and corners when I was a child, just as I
learned the alphabet. But this house! It is as full of devious ways and
pitfalls as the way in 'Pilgrim's Progress,' and I would never learn it
any more than I could the multiplication table. Why, that second-floor
suite you have given me is just like six-times-nine. When you first put
me in there I walked around to learn my way, and, on my word, I thought
I should never get back to my own room. I thought I should have to
sleep in a bath-tub. I escaped from the bath-room only to land in the
linen-closet. That was rather interesting. Then when I had calculated
all your sheets and pillow-cases, I got out of that to what I recognized
as my own room. No! it was the broom-closet--eight-times-seven! That was
the only familiar thing I saw. I could have hugged those brooms. But, my
dear, I never saw so many brooms in my life! No wonder you have to have
all those servants. I suppose some of them are to sweep the other
servants up. But you really must shut off those apartments and just give
me one little room to myself; or, now that I have escaped from the
labyrinth, I shall put on my bonnet and go straight home."

All this was delivered from the bottom step with a most amusing gravity.

"Well, now that you have escaped, come in here," said Mrs. Wentworth,
laughing. "I want a friend of mine to know you--a young man--"

"A gentleman!"

"Yes; a young gentleman from--"

"My dear!" exclaimed the other lady. "I am not fit to see a young
gentleman--I haven't on my new cap. I really could not."

"Oh, yes, you can. Come in. I want you to know him, too. He
is--m--m--m--"

This was too low for Keith to hear. The next second Mrs. Wentworth
turned and reentered the room, holding by the hand Keith's old lady