“To the right and up the steps. Be sure you kneel and kiss his hand before you say a word.”
Elfrida reached down for the candle in its silver candlestick, the panel clicked into place, and she stood there among the cobwebby shadows of the secret passage, the light in her hand and the tray at her feet.
“It’s only a Mouldiwarp magic adventure,” she said, to hearten herself, turned to the right, and went up the stairs. They were steep and narrow. At the top she saw the long, light-line of a slightly opened door. To knock seemed unwise. Instead she spoke softly, her lips against the line of light.
“It’s me,” she said, and instantly the door opened, and the beautiful gentleman stood before her.
The secret room had a little furniture—a couch, a table, chairs—all old-fashioned, and their shapes showed beautiful, even in the dim light of the two candles.
“Your supper,” said Elfrida, “is at the bottom of the stairs. The tray was too heavy for me. Do you mind fetching it up?”
“If you’ll show me a light,” he said, and went.
“You’ll stay and eat with me?” said he, when she had lighted him back to the secret room, and he had set the tray on the table.
“I mustn’t,” said Elfrida. “Cousin Bet’s such a muff; she wouldn’t know where to say I was if the servants came in. Oh, I say! I’m so sorry I forgot. She told me to kneel and kiss your hand before I said anything about supper. I’ll do it now.”
“Nay,” said he, “I’ll kiss thy cheek, little lady, and drink a health to him who shall have thy lips when thou’rt seventeen and I am—what was it—five hundred?”