XXXVI
It was not until the woman had passed out of the vestibule into the street that June could find courage to mount the stone stairs.
The knocker on the second door was so crazy that it threatened to break off in her hand. Tact and skill were called for to draw sound from it at all; bell there was none; but a faint light percolated through the fanlight and it was a glimpse of this which heartened June to persevere. By dint of application she was able to coax a few sounds out of the knocker, a feat which at last brought reward. The beam beyond the fanlight expanded; there was a shuffle of approaching slippers; and then the door came open.
Mr. Keller, wearing a dressing gown in lieu of a coat, stood before her.
“Hulloa!” he said.
Before June could find words of her own she had been recognized: “Why—it’s you!” The gentlemanly voice sounded most agreeable. “Walk right in. You’re welcome as the flowers in May.”
Tossed by the tempest as Mr. Keller’s visitor still was, she could not help contrasting such a welcome with the air and manner of Uncle Si.