But I was determined. Again I tried. This time I slipped and fell on my hands. As I strove to get up, the cord of my gown became tangled about my feet. The girl choked; whether with coal-dust or with laughter I could not say, as she still had on her cambric-mask.
"Forgive me," she said. And then I knew it was not the coal-dust.
"I'll forgive you, but I will not promise to forget."
"Merciful heavens! you must not try that again. Think of the noise!"
"Was I making any noise?"—rubbing the perspiration from my forehead. (I had taken off my mask.)
"Noise? The trump of Judgment Day will be feeble compared to it. Surely some one has heard you. Why not lay that board on top of the coal?"
A good idea. I made use of it at once. The window was unlatched, but there was a heavy wire-screen nailed to the sills outside. There was no getting out that way. The gods were evidently busy elsewhere.
"Nothing doing," I murmured, a bit discouraged.
"And even if there was, you really could not expect me to risk my neck and dignity by climbing through a window like that. Let us give up the idea of windows and seek the cellar-doors, those that give to the grounds. I declare I shall leave by no other exit."
"It was very kind of you to let me make an ass of myself like that. Why didn't you tell me beforehand?"