"What's the matter?" I asked, startled.
"I stepped on something that--that moved!"--plaintively.
"Possibly it was a potato; there's a bin of them over there. Where the
deuce are we?"
"If you swear, I shall certainly scream!" she warned.
"But I can swear in the most elegant and approved fashion."
"I am not inclined to have you demonstrate your talents."
"Aha! Here is the coal-bin. Perhaps the window may be open. If so,
we are saved. Will you hold the candle for a moment?"
Have you ever witnessed a cat footing it across the snow? If you have,
picture me imitating her. Cautiously I took one step, then another;
and then that mountain of coal turned into a roaring tread-mill.
Sssssh! Rrrrr! In a moment I was buried to the knees and nearly
suffocated. I became angry. I would reach that window--
"Hush! Hush! The noise, the noise!" whispered the girl, waving the
candle frantically.
But I was determined. Again I tried. This time I slipped and fell on
my hands. As I strove to get up, the cord of my gown became tangled
about my feet. The girl choked; whether with coal-dust or with
laughter I could not say, as she still had on her cambric-mask.
"Forgive me," she said. And then I knew it was not the coal-dust.
Pages:
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67