"Oh, Edith," she began, "you don't know what you lost by being
over squeamish. Such a perfect jewel-box of a room, with the
tiniest single bed of solid mahogany! Isn't it queer that Arthur
should have locked it up, and isn't it fortunate for us that Mrs.
Johnson found that rusty old key which must have originally
belonged to the door of the Den, as she says he calls it?"
Anxiously the young man awaited Edith's answer, his face aglow
with indignation and his eyes flashing with anger.
"Fortunate for YOU, perhaps," returned Edith, tying on her riding-
hat, "but I wouldn't have gone in for anything."
"Why not?" asked Grace, walking into the hall.
"Because," said Edith, "Mr. St. Claire evidently did not wish any
one to go in, and I think Mrs. Johnson was wrong in opening the
door."
"What a little Puritan it is!" returned Grace, playfully caressing
the rosy cheeks of Edith, who had now joined her in the hall.
"Arthur never will know, for I certainly shall not tell either him
or any one, and I gave Mrs. Johnson some very wholesome advice
upon that subject.
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