"Who keeps the keys?" asked Halsa. She was halfway up a ladder, a small hammer in her hand. Manuel stood at the foot of the ladder holding it firmly with one hand, so that it should not slip, while with the other he held out at arm's length a plate full of tin tacks. The position was strained and unpleasant. "Who keeps the keys? Oh!" she shrieked, "how sharp those nails are!" and she drew back her fingers smartly and began to examine their tips. To one of them a tack was clinging. Halsa hastily descended, and Mrs. Bunny removed the offending tack. It left a small blue mark on the finger tip. In the meanwhile Manuel remained silent. He had no intention of replying to the question, and his yellow eyes glistened with pleasure at the little accident, which had apparently called away attention from an embarrassing inquiry. But Manuel was mistaken, for when Halsa had examined the mark for a moment, and was satisfied that it was only a prick, she returned again to the charge and repeated her question. "I keep keys," replied Manuel sulkily. "I told you so, Halsa," said Mrs. Bunny, waving a damp duster in the air. Mrs. Bunny had not mentioned the fact, but it was a little weakness of hers to refer to former prophecies after a thing had happened. "Never mind," Halsa said, "you couldn't expect John to look after these things." There was a sense of proprietorship in her tone that was delightful to Galbraith, who had come in to see how things were going on, and had been an unobserved witness of the scene. Halsa was looking very pretty. Her arms were bare up to the elbows, and there was a bright flush on her cheeks. The brown hair, usually neatly braided, had become a little disarranged, and curled in an unruly manner over her forehead. Mrs. Bunny suddenly remembered that there was something to do in the study, and Manuel, ever watchful for an opportunity to escape, laid down the plate of tacks and vanished noiselessly. Galbraith glanced round him, and then his arm stole forth. Halsa avoided the caress by stepping back, and asked him how he thought the room looked. "I never thought it could look so well," he replied, and he spoke truly. The magic of feminine hands had changed the cheerless-looking room into a bright, cosy chamber. It was not that the things were valuable; fifty pounds might have covered the cost of everything, except the American harmonium, which stood where the fireplace ought to have been. All the effect lay in the nameless power of arrangement which only a woman possesses--a touch here--a touch there--and the thing is done. "I am glad you like it," said Halsa, as she stepped nearer to Galbraith. "See how I've hurt my finger;" and she held the wounded member up for inspection.