just be patient--"

Grace interrupted with a smothered shriek. Keziah brandished the broom.

"Patient!" she repeated sharply. "Well, I like that! What do you mean
by--Open that door! Grace, run out and get the--the constable."

This command was delivered entirely for effect. The office of constable
in Trumet is, generally speaking, a purely honorary one. Its occupant
had just departed for a week's cruise as mate of a mackerel schooner.
However, the effect was instantaneous. From behind the door came sounds
of hurry and commotion.

"Don't get the police on my account, please," said the voice. "If you
will be patient until I get this--I'm just as anxious to come out as you
can be to have me. Of all the ridiculous--"

"Come out then!" snapped Keziah. "Come out! If you're so everlastin'
anxious, then come out. Patience! Of all the cheek! Why don't you come
out NOW?"

The answer was brisk and to the point. Evidently, the unknown's stock of
the virtue which he demanded of others was diminishing.

"Well, to be frank, since you insist," snapped the voice, "I'm not fully
dressed."

This was a staggerer. For once Keziah did not have a reply ready.
She looked at Grace and the latter at her. Then, without words, they
retreated to the sitting room.