“The lady is sorry she can’t see _anyone_ to-day, as she is ill in bed.”
The mystery thickened. Going round to the back door, which was also
locked, the caller rapped more vigorously still. This time an agitated
voice wailed from the inside—
“Are you still there? Oh, _please_ go away!”
But, though he was exceedingly astonished at this curious reception, he
had no intention of going, and he said so. Eileen’s next question was
unexpected.
“What is your Christian name?” she began. He told her. “What is the
colour of your hair?”