"No, I would dribble the grease all over myself. Good-night and thanks for the key."
Nan stood holding the candle over the baluster until the last footfall had ceased and then she unlocked the door which led into Fräulein Bauer's apartment. She found her mother and her Aunt Helen waiting for her. A tray on the table held rolls and butter, some slices of cold ham, a glass of milk and a compote of apples. "I am so glad you waited up for me," said the girl as she came in.
"It isn't very late," said her aunt, "so it is nothing of a favor."
"I know it isn't, but it seems as if I had been away days."
"Has it been as great as all that?" asked her mother. "I am glad to see you back safe and sound. Fräulein Bauer said she would have a candle below for you, so I knew you would find your way in."
"Yes, but it is as dark as pitch on the ground floor, and it isn't like it is in Paris where the concierge is right at hand to let you in if necessary. I suppose there is a Hausmann, but there are no signs of his having rooms anywhere about."
"And you say there is no light at the entrance?"
"Not a glimmer; it is as black as a wolf's mouth."
"That will never do," said Mrs. Corner decidedly. "We can never in the world stay here under such conditions. Suppose we have callers in the evening, what is to be done?"