"Slope, mizzle, cut your stick; don't you understand. Any how, don't
stop here, bothering me."

"I don't mean to," replied Elizabeth; gravely, rather than gruffly,
as if she had made up her mind to things as they were, and was
determined to be a belligerent party no longer. Besides, she was
older now; too old to have things forgiven to her that might be
overlooked in a child; and she had received a long lecture from Miss
Hilary on the necessity of showing respect to Mr. Ascott, or Mr.
Leaf, as it was now decided he was to be called, in his dignity and
responsibility as the only masculine head of the family. As he lay
and lounged there, with his eyes lazily shut, Elizabeth stood a
minute gazing at him. Then, steadfast in her new good behavior, she
inquired "if he wanted any thing more to-night?"

"Confound you! no! Yes; stop." And the young man took a furtive
investigation of the plain, honest face, and not over-graceful,
ultra-provincial figure, which still characterized his aunt's "South
Sea Islander."

"I say, Elizabeth, I want you to do something for me." He spoke so
civilly, almost coaxingly, that Elizabeth turned round surprised.
"Would you just go and ask the landlady if she has got such thing as
a latch key?"

"A what, Sir?"

"A latch-key--a--oh, she knows. Every London house has it. Tell her
I'll take care of it, and lock the front door all right. She needn't
be afraid of thieves."