She waited until she heard the elevator start down before opening her door again. The boy must have aimed from the stairs; her paper was several yards down the hall, almost in front of 404. She went down to get it. Mrs. Moffatt must have heard Ellen's footsteps in the hall. An old lady with a small income (from her late husband, as she had explained to Ellen) and little to do, she was intensely interested in her neighbors. She opened the door of her apartment and peered out. Her thin white hair was done up in tight kid curlers. With her round faded-blue eyes and round wrinkled-apple cheeks, she looked like an inquisitive aged baby. "Good morning," said Ellen pleasantly. "Good morning, my dear," the old lady answered. "You're up early for a Saturday." "Well, I thought I might as well get up and start my house-cleaning. I didn't sleep a wink after four o'clock this morning anyway. Did you hear all that racket in the hall?" "Why, no, I didn't." The old lady sounded disappointed. "I don't see how I missed it. I guess because I went to bed so late. My nephews--you've seen them, haven't you?--They're such nice boys. They took me to a movie last night." "Well, I'm surprised you didn't hear it," said Ellen. "Thumping and scratching, like somebody was dragging a rake along the floor. I just couldn't get back to sleep." The old lady clicked her tongue. "I'll bet somebody came home drunk. Isn't that terrible? I wonder who it was." "I don't know," said Ellen, "but it was certainly a disgrace. I was going to call Mrs. Anderson." With the door open, the hall seemed filled with the very odd odor of Mrs. Moffatt's apartment--not really unpleasant, but musty, with the smell of antiques. The apartment itself was like a museum. Ellen had been inside once when the old lady invited her in for a cup of tea. Its two rooms were crammed with a bizarre assortment of furniture, bric-a-brac and souvenirs. "Oh, how's your bird this morning?" Ellen asked. In addition to being a collector, Mrs. Moffatt was an animal fancier. She owned three cats, a pair of love-birds, goldfish, and even a cage of white mice. One of the love-birds, she had informed Ellen yesterday, was ailing. "Oh, Buzzy's much better today," she beamed. "The doctor told me to feed him whisky every three hours--with an eyedropper, you know--and you'd be surprised how it helped the little fellow. He even ate some bird-seed this morning." "I'm so glad," said Ellen. She picked up her paper and smiled at Mrs. Moffatt. "I'll see you later."