"I 'll never do that," she cried.
"Usually," asserted Moore, "a girl's never means to-morrow."
"This instance is an exception."
"True, Bessie, for this time it means five minutes. Behold the key to the problem."
With a teasing gesture Moore held up the bit of brass, the possession of which had made the girl's punishment possible.
"If you go," said the girl, firmly and slowly, "it means we shall never be friends again."
"Pooh!" observed the poet with an indifference most insulting, "you do not frighten me in the least, my dear. I do not wish to be your friend."
So saying, he deposited the key in his pocket and walked toward the door with a self-satisfied swagger.
Bessie, driven to desperation, was about to call to him not to go, hoping he would propose some other terms of settlement, when he took his handkerchief out of his pocket and waved it at her before stepping out of the room. She smothered a little cry of delight and waited impatiently for his steps to die away as he walked toward the farther door of the apartment adjacent. Moore had carelessly drawn the key out of his pocket with his handkerchief, and it had dropped noiselessly upon the floor, the sound of its fall deadened by the soft carpet.
"Now, how can I get that key?" thought Bessie. "If I only had a long stick! I 'll try to reach it with a chair."