She had a key in her hand, and now she unlocked the door. Frank followed her into the house. A dim light burned in the hall. But from above came the sound of children at play.
They ascended the stairs. A door was standing slightly open, and the children’s voices came from that room. Hilda’s room was on the same floor. Frank stood outside the door until she had entered and lighted the gas. Then he came in, and she asked him to leave the door standing open. The room was small and rather poorly furnished.
“If there had been any other way, I would not have asked you here,” she again declared.
She gave him a chair and he sat down. From the distant room came the sound of the romping children, shouting to each other as they played.
Hilda’s trunk was in the room. She unlocked it and took something out. When she turned to Frank she held in her hands a handsome wax doll, which had been carefully and expensively dressed.
“Here,” she said, noting the wonder in his face, “is what has caused all the trouble.”
All along he had fancied it might not really be a doll, but now he saw it was. She smiled as she heard him whistle softly to himself.
“Isn’t she handsome?” asked the girl.
“Very pretty,” he acknowledged, his wonder increasing.
“Oh, I think she is perfectly lovely!” Hilda declared, caressing the doll.