“Oh yes, it will, for they will know we don’t want to stay up here in the dark. We can really play just as well in here even if it is smelly. We can pretend we are prisoners taken by the Indians, or that we are hiding from them and don’t dare to come out.”
Somewhat comforted, Betsy accepted the situation with a good grace, though they did not find playing prisoner a particularly exciting game and soon wearied of it. In the face of bare walls and not much space Elizabeth’s imagination failed her and they sat down rather crestfallen to wait rescuers.
They had been silent for about five minutes when suddenly Elizabeth jumped up, saying, “I know what we can do; we can play jacks with the moth balls.”
“That is an idea,” Betsy said in a pleased voice. “It will be much better than sitting still doing nothing.”
Elizabeth lifted the box of moth balls from the shelf. They cleared a space on the top of the box where they had been sitting, and, squatting down upon the floor, they began the game. The novelty of their playthings lasted till dark began to set in and they could no longer see to play. The little room was so dimly lighted that it was really not so late as it seemed, even on this November afternoon. They were not uncomfortable for there were parcels of blankets and such things wrapped in paper and piled up on the floor; these they leaned against, taking various positions as they became restless.
“It isn’t so very warm, is it?” said Betsy, after a long silence.
“No, but we can easily get out something to wrap ourselves up in. I think if we were to lie down we might be more comfortable. We can make a bed of some of these big packages; it won’t hurt, and I will get out a blanket to put over us.”
This was a new arrangement and they laughingly prepared to lie down, cuddling under a heavy blanket and feeling quite satisfied to wait events. It grew darker and darker. It was very still in the house and very still in the little room; only the sound of gentle breathing came from the pallet on the floor.
In course of time the various members of the family returned. First came Bert, who, finding that the door was locked, did not attempt to get in, but went off to Patsy McGonigle’s to see how he had fared upon Thanksgiving Day. Next came a merry party of young people. Dick had a latch-key and let in the crowd. They went into the parlor and began to sing college songs, then Neal Paine proposed that all go over to his house.
“I’m jolly hungry myself, after that long ride,” he said, “and we’ve a barrel of oysters sent up for Thanksgiving, so what’s the matter with going over, all of us, and having an oyster roast?”