"A stick," responded Haleema. "Do you know, I believe that I can break that window."
As she spoke she stood on tiptoe, and reached toward the transom. But, alas! she was too short, and the stick was too short, and with all her efforts she could not reach the glass.
"We could not get out through that window," said Concetta scornfully. "We couldn't get out through that window, so what is the good of trying?"
"Oh, I didn't mean to get out through the window, but if I break the glass we can have more air. We won't smother to death."
At the suggestion of smothering, although Haleema had pronounced it an unlikely happening, Inez began to cry.
"Don't be a baby," said the little Syrian scornfully. "I guess there's more than one way of catching a bird, even if you can't put salt on his tail," from which it may be seen that Haleema was well on the way to becoming a good Yankee, since her proverbs were not strictly Oriental.
How long the time seemed! The light from the other room hardly showed through the transom. Though they could move about in the closet, their positions were naturally cramped. The air grew closer and warmer, and though they were in no danger of suffocation, they were becoming drowsy from the closeness and warmth.
Haleema strained her ears to hear any one who should pass near, yet even when she noted a distant step she realized that it would be hard to make herself heard. Still the three girls kicked on the door, and sang at the top of their voices, but in vain.
At last Haleema grew desperate.
"There's just one thing I can do," she said, "and I'll do it."