She rose, and tried to take the candle
from the bureau, but old Mazey's cunning hand was too quick for
her. "Let the candle be," said the veteran, winking in momentary
forgetfulness of his responsible position. "You're a trifle quicker on
your legs than I am, my dear, and you might leave me in the lurch, if I
don't carry the light."
They returned to the inhabited side of the house. Staggering after
Magdalen, with the basket of keys in one hand and the candle in the
other, old Mazey sorrowfully compared her figure with the straightness
of the poplar, and her disposition with the crookedness of Sin, all
the way across "Freeze-your-Bones," and all the way upstairs to her own
door. Arrived at that destination, he peremptorily refused to give
her the candle until he had first seen her safely inside the room. The
conditions being complied with, he resigned the light with one hand, and
made a dash with the other at the key, drew it from the inside of
the lock, and instantly closed the door. Magdalen heard him outside
chuckling over his own dexterity, and fitting the key into the lock
again with infinite difficulty. At last he secured the door, with a
deep grunt of relief.
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