"Thith key ith too _awful_ yaller," he said. "I'll put it back and
turn it half-way back, and then we'll thee."
So he stuck it into the key-hole and tried to turn it in the opposite
direction to the way he had turned it before. But it would not turn to
the left at all. So he let go and stood off looking at it a while, when,
to his surprise, the key began turning to the right of its own accord.
And as it turned it grew whiter, until it was a key of pure silver.
"Purty good for you, ole hoss," said Bob, as he pulled out the bright
silver key. "We'll thee if you're any better'n the black one and the
yaller one."
But neither would the silver one open the door; for the key-hole was as
much afraid of it as of the brass one and the iron one. Only now it
neither went up nor down, but first toward one side of the door and then
toward the other, according to the way in which the key approached it.
Bobby, after a while, went at it straight from the front, whereupon the
key-hole divided into two parts--the one half running off the door to the
right, the other to the left.
"Well, that'th ahead of my time," said Bob. But he was by this time so
much amused by the changes in the key and the antics of the nimble
key-hole, that he did not care much whether the door opened or not.
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