"Up to the moon in an old jelly spoon!" sang Foster, and the giggles redoubled.
At that very instant, outdoors on the front porch, Mr. Caduggan and Joe Baskerville, after a mighty effort and some strong language, managed to force the great front door to open at last. It swung in heavily, rustily, with a slow reluctant groan, and as it gave way, the March wind entered, blew in a current through the hall and the dining room, finally reached the pantry, and firmly slammed the dumb-waiter door.
Total blackness in the shaft.
The giggles stopped abruptly.
"Hey!" yelled Davey.
"Ma-a-a!" yelled Foster. "Daddy!"
They called and called, but no one heard them. After a while, because it seemed the only thing to do, they began to cry.
Portia, coming upstairs to refresh herself with a look at her beloved round room, heard most curious noises: a keening and wailing and then some thumps. But where were they coming from? Where in the world? She listened a moment, then hurried into her parents' room: the big one that had belonged to Mrs. Brace-Gideon herself.
But the room was empty.