"Come, Marjorie, come see where I hang the key," said Morris.
Marjorie followed him down the kitchen steps, across the shed to a corner at the farther end; he found a nail and slipped it on and then asked her to reach it.
Even standing on tip toe her upstretched hand could not touch it.
"See how I put the key of my heart out of your reach," he said, seriously.
"And see how I stretch after it," she returned, demurely.
"I will come with you and reach it for you."
"How can you when you are demolishing plaster in Christopher Columbus' house or falling into the crater of Mt. Vesuvius? I may want to come here that very day."
"True; I will put it lower for you. Shall I put it under this stone so that you will have to stoop for it?"
"Mrs. Rheid said hang it over the window, that has been its place for generations. They lived here when they were first married, before they built their own house; the house doesn't look like it, does it? It is all made over new. I am glad he gave it to Will."
"He can build a house for Hollis," said he, watching her as he spoke.