"The Old Scratch and his wife," he declared. "I hope they didn't see me, but—Land of love, they're comin' in!"
A majestic tread sounded in the hall, in the dining-room. Mrs. George Powless appeared, severe, overwhelming, with Mr. George Powless in her wake. The former saw Mr. Winslow and fixed him with her glittering eye, as the Ancient Mariner fixed the wedding guest.
"Ah!" she observed, with majestic irony, "the lost key is found, it would seem."
Jed looked guilty.
"Yes, ma'am," he faltered. "Er—yes, ma'am."
"So? And now, I presume, as it is apparent that you do show the interior of this house to other interested persons," with a glance like a sharpened icicle in the direction of the Armstrongs, "perhaps you will show it to my husband and me."
Jed swallowed hard.
"Well, ma'am," he faltered, "I—I'd like to, but—but the fact is, I—"
"Well, what?"
"It ain't my house."