“LOVE (AND SCHOOLGIRLS) LAUGH AT LOCKSMITHS”
“Here, I’m going to take command of affairs, since no one else seems inclined to,” cried Marie. “May, you are the strongest girl here; just give me a shoulder, will you?”
“What shall I do?”
“Stand close to the wall underneath the window, and let me get on your shoulder; it may hurt a bit, but we can’t stay stived up in here all night. Lend a hand, Ruth, and boost me up.”
A step-ladder of knees and arms was formed, and up scrambled Marie as nimbly as a squirrel. Then another obstacle confronted her. The window had probably never been opened since it was built, and, having never been called upon to do its share in the economy of that household, was disinclined to begin now. Marie’s slender fingers were dented and pinched in vain; that window remained obdurate.
“For mercy sake come down and give the old thing up! My shoulder is crushed flat,” said May.
“Wait just one second longer, and I’ll have it; see if I don’t. Ruth, hand me that stair-brush, please.”
Ruth gave her the brush, and, saying to May: “Now, brace yourself for a mighty push,” she used the handle as a lever, gave a vigorous jerk, when away went bolt, window, Marie and all. Down she came with a thud, but, luckily, on a pile of sweeping cloths, which saved her from harm.
Scrabbling up, she cried: “Never mind, I’m not hurt a bit; now boost me up again, and let me see what is outside.”
She was promptly lifted up, and, poking her saucy head out into the moonlight, drew in long whiffs of the sweet night air, which was wonderfully refreshing after the stuffy closet.
“The shed is about ten feet below, girls. If I had anything to lower myself down with I could easily reach it; I’m almost afraid to let myself drop, the shed slopes so.”
“Hang fast a second while Ruth and I tie the sweeping-cloths together,” cried May, and quickly catching up the calico covers they began to tie them together.
“See that you tie them tightly,” warned Marie. “I’ve had one bump already, and I don’t want another.”
The cloths were soon ready, and one end handed to her. She fastened it securely about her waist, and, warning the others to hang on for dear life, she began to crawl through the narrow opening.
“My goodness, she is just like a monkey,” said Pauline. “I never could have done it in the world,” a most superfluous assertion, as no one in the world would ever have suspected her of being able to.
Away went Marie, vanishing bit by bit from their sight till only her laughing black eyes, with the soft dark hair above them, were visible in the moonlight. The girls lowered away slowly, and presently felt the strain upon the cloths relax.
“She’s on the shed! Good!” said Edith, “and now she’ll have us out in less than jig time.”
But “many’s the slip twixt the—lip and the birthday box,” and the girls began to suspect Marie of treachery to the cause ere they again heard her voice.
“AWAY WENT MARIE, VANISHING BIT BY BIT.”
Meantime, how fared it with her? Once upon the shed all seemed plain sailing, but the shed was somewhat like the mountains Moses climbed so wearily; it gave her a glimpse of the promised land without permitting her to enter it. The ground was fully sixteen feet below her, and to reach it without some means other than her own nimble legs was obviously impossible. The shed was only a small one built out over the kitchen, but just beyond, with perhaps five feet dividing them, was the end of the piazza roof, and if she could only reach that she could let herself down to the ground by the thick vines growing upon it. But those five feet intervening looked a perfect gulf, and how to get over them was a poser. Jump it she dared not; step it she could not. It began to look as though she must signal to the girls in the closet to haul in their big fish, when she chanced to spy something sticking up through the honeysuckle vines. Crawling carefully down to the edge of the shed, she peered over, and saw the ends of the gardener’s ladder. Pauline had not made a mistake when she called her a monkey, for in just one second she was at the bottom of that ladder.
“Now I’m all right, and will soon have the girls free,” and off she scurried to the side of the house upon which Toinette’s room was situated. Gathering up a handful of soft earth she threw it against the window, but with no result. Then a second one followed. Had she but known it, Toinette and her revellers had long ago given them up, and were now down in the old laundry spreading forth their array of goodies. After wasting considerable time, Marie suddenly bethought her of the above fact, and instantly skipped off to that Mecca.
There was not a ray of light visible, but, happily, sight is not the only sense with which we are endowed, and Marie’s ears were as keen as her eyes. Giving the three signal taps upon one of the tightly closed window-blinds, she waited a reply. But the girls were not expecting taps from that quarter, and at once became suspicious. But precious moments were fleeing, and Marie was becoming desperate, so, flinging prudence to the winds, she gave three sounding bangs upon that window, and called out:
“If you don’t open this window and let me in I’ll set Mother Stone on your track, sure as you live!”
Open flew the window, and a moment later Marie was relating her experiences to them. Then came the question of rescuing the others. Not an easy one to answer. But Marie had gone so far, and, being a very resourceful little body, had no notion of giving up yet, and saying to the revellers: “I’m going to let those girls out if I have to take the door down to do it,” off she flitted, as quickly and silently as a butterfly. In less time than it takes to tell it she stood outside their prison, and saying, encouragingly: “Don’t give up, girls; I’ll soon have you out,” she slipped into the sewing-room opposite, and emerged a second later with the little oil-can and screw-driver from the machine drawer.
“For gracious sake, what are you going to do?” whispered Cicely, who had come with her to help if possible.
“Something I once saw a carpenter at our house do, if I can. Sh! Don’t make any noise,” and, reaching up to the top hinge, Marie dropped a few drops of oil from her can upon it, and then treated the lower one in the same manner. The hinges were what are known as “fish hinges,” the door being held in place by a small iron peg slipped into the sockets of the hinge. After she had oiled them, she placed her screw-driver under the knob of the peg, when, lo! up it slid as easily as could be, and when both had been carefully slid out of place, nothing prevented the door from being softly drawn away from the hinges, swung outward, and if it did not open from left to right, as it had been intended to open, it was quite as easy to walk through it when it opened from right to left. To slip it back into place, when five giggling girls had escaped, was equally easy, and no one would ever have suspected the skillful bit of mechanical engineering that had taken place under their very noses at ten-thirty that night.