"Why, their flat must be right here," whispered Euphemia. "How
quickly the girl came!"
And she looked for the girl as we entered. But there was no one
there.
"Their flat is on the fifth story," said I. "He mentioned that in
his letter. We had better shut the door and go up."
Up and up the softly carpeted stairs we climbed, and not a soul we
saw or heard.
"It is like an enchanted cavern," said Euphemia. "You say the
magic word, the door in the rock opens and you go on, and on,
through the vaulted passages--"
"Until you come to the ogre," said the boarder, who was standing at
the top of the stairs. He did not behave at all like an ogre, for
he was very glad to see us, and so was his wife. After we had
settled down in the parlor and the boarder's wife had gone to see
about something concerning the dinner, Euphemia asked after the
children.
"I hope they haven't gone to bed," she said, "for I do so want to
see the dear little things."
The ex-boarder, as Euphemia called him, smiled grimly.
"They're not so very little," he said. "My wife's son is nearly
grown. He is at an academy in Connecticut, and he expects to go
into a civil engineer's office in the spring. His sister is older
than he is. My wife married--in the first instance--when she was
very young--very young in deed."
"Oh!" said Euphemia; and then, after a pause, "And neither of them
is at home now?"
"No," said the ex-boarder. "By the way, what do you think of this
dado? It is a portable one; I devised it myself.
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