“Don’t tell me!” said Mrs. Stratton.  “I know all about that.”

“Connie knows,” said Josie, putting her arms over her sister’s shoulders —­the younger was the taller—­and drawing her face back.  “Do you know, Arty, I daren’t go into a room in a house I know without knocking.  The lady has been married twelve years and when her husband is away he writes to her every day, and though they have quite big children they send them to bed and sit for hours in the same chair, billing and cooing.  I’ve known them—­”

“I wonder who they can be,” interrupted Mrs. Stratton, twisting herself free, her face as red as Josie’s shawl.  “There’s Nellie’s voice.  They’ll be wondering what we’re doing here.  Do come along!” And seizing a tray of cups and saucers, on which she had placed the coffeepot and the saucer of sliced lemon, she beat a dignified retreat amid uproarious laughter.

* * * * *

Ned found himself in a narrow hall that ran along the side of the house at right angles to the verandah and the road.  The floor was covered with oil-cloth; the walls were hung with curios, South Sea spears and masks, Japanese armour, boomerangs, nullahs, a multitude of quaint workings in wood and grass and beads.  Against the wall facing the door was an umbrella stand and hat rack of polished wood, with a mirror in the centre.  There were two pannelled doors to the left; a doorless stairway, leading downwards, and a large window to the right; at the end of the passage a glazed door, with coloured panes.  A gas jet burned in a frosted globe and seeing him look at this Stratton explained the contrivance for turning the light down to a mere dot which gave no gleam but could be turned up again in a second.

“My wife is enthusiastic about household invention,” he concluded, smiling.  “She thinks it assists in righting women’s wrongs.  Eh, Nellie?  The freed and victorious female will put her foot on abject man some day?  Eh?”

Nellie laughed again.  She held the handle of the nearest door in one hand.  Mr. Stratton had turned to take Ned’s hat, apologising for neglecting to think of that before.  Ned saw the girl’s other hand move quickly up to where the gas bracket met the wall and then the light went out altogether.  “That’s for poking fun,” he heard her say.  The door slammed, a key turned in it and he heard her laughing on the other side.

“Larrikin!” shouted Stratton, boisterously.  “Come out here and see what we’ll do to you.  She’s always up to her tricks,” he added, striking a match and turning the gas on again.  “She is a fine girl.  We are as fond of her as though she were one of the family.  She is one of the family, for that matter.”