"Don't open that door."
"Wait, Mother—"
"We're trying to find the way to Mr. Wilkinson's—can you tell us?"
"Sure I can."
He moved to open the door. Again his wife held him.
"Don't do it!"
Doyle brushed her aside.
"Don't be foolish, Mahala," he protested indignantly. "I'm a poor sort o' man if I can't tell a lost traveler the way out of the woods."
"They're lyin'!"
"We'll see."