"What?" Sophia demanded.

"Has he gone back to his bedroom?"

"Let's go and listen," said Sophia the adventuress.

They went, through the showroom door, past the foot of the stairs
leading to the second storey, down the long corridor broken in the
middle by two steps and carpeted with a narrow bordered carpet
whose parallel lines increased its apparent length. They went on
tiptoe, sticking close to one another. Mr. Povey's door was
slightly ajar. They listened; not a sound.

"Mr. Povey!" Constance coughed discreetly.

No reply. It was Sophia who pushed the door open. Constance made
an elderly prim plucking gesture at Sophia's bare arm, but she
followed Sophia gingerly into the forbidden room, which was,
however, empty. The bed had been ruffled, and on it lay a book,
"The Harvest of a Quiet Eye."

"Harvest of a quiet tooth!" Sophia whispered, giggling very low.

"Hsh!" Constance put her lips forward.

From the next room came a regular, muffled, oratorical sound, as
though some one had begun many years ago to address a meeting and
had forgotten to leave off and never would leave off. They were
familiar with the sound, and they quitted Mr. Povey's chamber in
fear of disturbing it. At the same moment Mr. Povey reappeared,