As the time went on they grew more and more careful. It was like building a house of cards. As hour after hour of blameless politeness was added to the score, they grew almost breathlessly anxious. If, after all this, some natural annoyance should spoil everything!
“I do hope,” said Edred, towards tea-time, “that you won’t go and do anything tiresome.”
“Oh, dear, I do hope I shan’t,” said Elfrida.
And this was just like them both.
After tea they decided to read, so as to lessen the chances of failure. They both wanted the same book—“Treasure Island” it was—and for a moment the niceness of both hung in the balance. Then, with one accord, each said, “No—you have it!” and the matter ended in each taking a quite different book that it didn’t particularly want to read.
At bedtime Edred lighted Elfrida’s candle for her, and she picked up the matches for him when he dropped them.
“Bless their hearts,” said Mrs. Honeysett, in the passage.
They parted with the heartfelt remark, “We’ve done it this time.”
Now, of course, in the three days when they had not succeeded in being nice to each other they had “looked for the door,” but as the mole had not said where it was, nor what kind of a door, their search had not been fruitful. Most of the rooms had several doors, and as there were a good many rooms the doors numbered fifty-seven, counting cupboards. And among these there was none that seemed worthy to rank above all others as the door. Many of the doors in the old part of the house looked as though they might be the one, but since there were many no one could be sure.
“How shall we know?” Edred asked next morning, through his egg and toast.