The two faces were smiling into each
other.
Somebody--it looked to be a tall young man against the fire-glow--came
and abruptly closed the door from within, and the picture was gone. The
fitful music ceased again; the house was quiet.
Thereupon Richard Kendrick grew impatient. Fully ten minutes must have
elapsed since his youthful conductor had disappeared. He looked about
him for some means of summoning attention, but discovered none.
Suddenly a latchkey rattled uselessly in the lock of the front door;
then came lusty knocks upon its stout panels, accompanied by the
whirring of a bell somewhere in the distance.
A maidservant came hurriedly into the hall through a door near Richard,
and at the same moment a boy of ten or eleven came tearing down the
front stairs. As the lad shouted through the door, Richard recognized
his late conductor.
"You can't get in, Daddy; the lock's gone queer. Come around to the
back. I'll see to him, Mary," the boy called to the maid, who, nodding,
disappeared.
At this moment the door opposite Richard opened again, and the mother of
the household came out, her comely waist closely clasped by the arm of
the young girl.
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