To him an open door
had always meant permission to enter. And the enticingly rank
scent was tenfold stronger indoors than out. Across a hallway he
trotted, still sniffing; and up a flight of stairs leading to the
second story of the house.
At the stairhead, a room door stood wide. And into this room led
the odor. Lad went in. He was in a large and sunlit room; but in
the most disorderly room he had ever set eyes on. The room needed
airing, too. For all its four windows were closed, except one
which was open for perhaps six inches from the top.
Lad circled the room, twice; from door to windows, and thence to
center table and around the walls; pausing at one window sill and
again at the threshold; picking his way daintily over heaps of
litter on the floor. Yes, the room was full of the scent. But,
whence the scent emanated, Lad could not, for the life of him,
tell. The room gave him no clew. And, after a few minutes of
futile investigation, he turned to depart.
At the stairhead, he came upon the same servant he had seen
sweeping the veranda. She cried: "Shoo!" at him and brandished
her broom.
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