Ruth sped on her errand at a pace which satisfied even the impatient Peggy, and returned with a key which really did look like the latch key with whose appearance Peggy was most familiar. Hopefully she inserted it in the appropriate key-hole. Patiently she turned it this way and that. The latch key was like a great many people, encouraging one's expectations by almost doing what it was asked to do, but never quite succeeding. In the end Peggy mournfully relinquished all hope of entering the house by its aid.
"I can't waste any more time on that key. It won't work, and I've got to get in."
"How about the windows," suggested Ruth.
"The windows on the first floor are all locked, for I made sure of that before I started out."
"If we could borrow a ladder—"
"I don't know anybody who owns a ladder. No, there's just one chance as far as I can see. I've always wondered if I could get in through the coal shute and now I'm going to see."
"But, Peggy, it's so dirty."
"I know, but it's got to be done."
"You might get stuck," exclaimed Ruth, turning pale. "Wait a little, Peggy. Perhaps something will happen."
"Unless an air ship comes along and takes me to a second story window, I can't think of anything that could happen that would be of any help to me."