"O dear me!" exclaimed Joel, backing out summarily.
"I am very glad to see you, Joel," said Madam Van Ruypen, with her best smile on, "for I'm going to wait until Mrs. Whitney gets home," and extending her hand.
Joel, forgetting his key, put hand and all into her black glove.
"Dear me," she said, looking at her palm, "what have we here, Joel?"
"It's a key," blurted Joel, recovering it quickly, "and I can't stay," feeling questions in the air, and he was for bolting out again.
"Indeed, you will stay," declared Madam Van Ruypen, coolly; "a talk with you is the very thing I want! Sit down," and she pointed a black-gloved finger over to an opposite ottoman. And Joel sat down.
"Now, my dear boy," she said as sweetly as if she had come expressly to see him, and was quite sure of her welcome, "before your aunt comes home, I want to talk with you."
"Oh, I'll go and put it back," said Joel, supposing it was all about the key, and beginning to slide off from his ottoman.
"Put what back?" demanded the old lady with sharp eyes full on him.
"The key," said Joel, fumbling it first in one set of fingers, then in the other. "I'll—" and he was on his feet.