“What there, Nick! Art thou within?” Cicely called again; but Nick made no reply.
“Nick, dear Nick, art crying?”
“No,” said he; “I’m not.”
There was a short silence.
“Nick, I say, wilt thou be good if I open the door?”
“No.”
“Then I will open it anyway; thou durstn’t be bad to me!”
The bolts thumped, and then the heavy door swung slowly back.
“Why, where art thou?”
He was sitting in the corner behind the door.