The Keeper of the Door

by Ethel M. Dell

She faced him. "Did you know I was coming?"

"No. I thought it was Mrs. Ratcliffe. Max writes an abominable fist."

She seemed relieved. "Yes, I have come to take care of him. He never takes care of himself."

"And you know how to make him do as he is told?" asked Noel.

She smiled. "Oh, yes, I am quite capable. It isn't the first time I have taken care of him. We are very old pals."

"I envy you both," said Noel. "Is this what you are looking for?"

He had spied a ring under the edge of Peggy's biscuit-plate. He held it out to her with a graceful flourish.

But at this point Peggy, who had begun to feel neglected, overcame her shyness and shrilly intervened.

"Noel, that's not the way! You should say, 'With this ring—'"

"Peggy!" Noel interrupted, "you're going too fast. I'm much too old to travel at that pace. I will say good-night to you before you get me into trouble."