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"The old schoolroom, Mr. Dorian?" she exclaimed. "Why, it is full

of dust. I must get it arranged and put straight before you go

into it. It is not fit for you to see, sir. It is not, indeed."

"I don't want it put straight, Leaf. I only want the key."

"Well, sir, you'll be covered with cobwebs if you go into it.

Why, it hasn't been opened for nearly five years-not since his

lordship died."

He winced at the mention of his grandfather. He had hateful

memories of him. "That does not matter," he answered. "I simply

want to see the place-that is all. Give me the key."

"And here is the key, sir," said the old lady, going over the

contents of her bunch with tremulously uncertain hands. "Here is

the key. I'll have it off the bunch in a moment. But you don't

think of living up there, sir, and you so comfortable here?"

"No, no," he cried petulantly. "Thank you, Leaf. That will do."