"Do come here," called Belle, from a small room, hardly more than a closet, which opened from one of the bed chambers, "and see this funny picture."
There was one window in this room, and the outside shutters had round openings near the top through which the light came. The others looked at the print, and then Rosalind returned to a work-table that pleased her fancy, Katherine following her. As Belle lingered, Jack, in a spirit of mischief, suddenly pulled the door to.
"Jack! Jack! please let me out," she cried.
"Why don't you come out, goosie?"
"You have locked the door. Please, Jack!"
"It isn't locked," Jack insisted, but when he tried to open it he found the knob immovable.
"Maybe it is a dead latch," suggested Rosalind. "He is trying, Belle, really."
"Are you sure you can't open it from the inside?" Jack asked anxiously.
"Yes. I can turn the key both ways, but something holds the knob." Belle's voice was tremulous.
"I am dreadfully sorry. What shall we do?" asked Jack, meekly, turning to Rosalind, after their efforts had proved fruitless.