He tried kicking the boards where he saw the largest cracks, but not a board could he move.
Then he grew so excited that he hardly knew what he was doing.
What was going on in the office? Was that on fire? He threw himself against the sides of the closet, one after the other.
He wasn’t sure whether it was his head or the closet that began to rock. It seemed to be the closet.
Once more he threw himself against the back of the closet. That time he was sure it was the closet that rocked!
He threw himself three times, four times, five times. Suddenly he landed on his head in the top of the closet on a heap of clothes. Light was coming in from somewhere. His head was rocking so that he could hardly move, but, in a minute, he managed to turn and to crawl out of the bottom of the closet, where the cleats had given way.
It was easier, just then, for him to crawl than it was to walk. So he crawled across to the office, reached up, and opened the door.
Surprised he certainly was, for everything seemed to be all right.
Billy, beginning to feel pretty sore in several places, pulled himself up into Mr. Prescott’s chair.
Then he heard a faint tick, tick, tick.