"I don't blame a young girl like
you," said the old lady, "for being a little curious when she first
comes into such a strange house as this. But remember, for the future,
that yo ur business does not lie on the bedroom story. Mr. Mazey sleeps
on that bed you noticed. It is his habit at night to sleep outside his
master's door." With that meager explanation Mrs. Drake's lips closed,
and opened no more.
Later in the day Magdalen found an opportunity of applying to old Mazey
himself. She discovered the veteran in high good humor, smoking his
pipe, and warming a tin mug of ale at his own snug fire.
"Mr. Mazey," she asked, boldly, "why do you put your bed in that cold
passage?"
"What! you have been upstairs, you young jade, have you?" said old
Mazey, looking up from his mug with a leer.
Magdalen smiled and nodded. "Come! come! tell me," she said, coaxingly.
"Why do you sleep outside the admiral's door?"
"Why do you part your hair in the middle, my dear?" asked old Mazey,
with another leer.
"I suppose, because I am accustomed to do it," answered Magdalen.
"Ay! ay!" said the veteran. "That's why, is it? Well, my dear, the
reason why you part your hair in the middle is the reason why I sleep
outside the admiral's door.
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