Mrs.
George Powless appeared, severe, overwhelming, with Mr.George Powless in her wake.

The former saw Mr.Winslow and fixed him with her glittering eye, as the Ancient Mariner fixed the wedding guest.
"Ah!" she observed, with majestic irony, "the lost key is found, it would seem." Jed looked guilty.
"Yes, ma'am," he faltered.

"Er--yes, ma'am." "So?
And now, I presume, as it is apparent that you do show the interior of this house to other interested persons," with a glance like a sharpened icicle in the direction of the Armstrongs, "perhaps you will show it to my husband and me." Jed swallowed hard.
"Well, ma'am," he faltered, "I--I'd like to, but--but the fact is, I--" "Well, what ?" "It ain't my house." "Isn't your house?
George," turning to Mr.Powless, "didn't I hear this man distinctly tell you that this house WAS his ?" George nodded.

"Certainly, my dear," he declared.

Then turning to Mr.Winslow, he demanded: "What do you mean by saying it is yours one moment and not yours the next; eh ?" Jed looked around.