"Windows!" Kent suddenly exclaimed, and they all laughed foolishly.
They had not thought of the windows.
"That's a good joke on the Eddy boys!" Old Tilly said. "We sha'n't hear the last of it if anybody lets on to father."
"Better wait till we're on the other side of the windows!" advised Kent.
"Maybe it isn't a joke."
There were windows enough. They were ranged in monotonous rows on all sides of the church, above and below. They all had tiny old-fashioned panes of glass and were fastened with wooden buttons. It was the work of a minute to "unbutton" one of them and jump out.
"There!" breathed Jot in relief, as his toes touched sod again, "I feel as if I'd been in prison and just got out."
"Broken out—that's the way I feel. I wish we could fasten the window again," Old Tilly said thoughtfully.
Kent was rubbing his ankle ruefully.
"It was a joke on us, our mooning round that door all that time, and thinking we were trapped!"
"Oh, well, come on; it doesn't matter, now we're free again."
"Come along—here are our wheels all right," Old Tilly said briskly. "Let's go down to that little bunch of white houses there under the hill, and pick out the one we want to stay over night in."