“Does your grandfather often leave you like this?” she asked dubiously.
“Always when there’s snow on the ground,” came the surprising answer. “Oh, please let me out of this hateful place! Don’t be such a goody-good!”
To be accused of being a “goody-good” was a novel experience for Penny. But instead of taking offense she laughed and started toward the woodshed.
“On a nail by the window!” the girl shouted after her. “If it isn’t there look on the shelf by the door.”
Penny found the key and came back. Taking off her cumbersome skis, she unlocked the front door and stepped inside the cabin. The room was rather cold for the fire had nearly gone out. Despite a bareness of furniture, the place had a comfortable appearance. Snowshoes decorated the walls along with a deer head and an out-dated calendar. There was a cook stove, a homemade table, chairs, and a cot.
“Do hurry up!” called the impatient voice from above. “Climb the steps.”
At the far end of the room a rickety, crudely constructed ladder ascended to a rectangular trap door in the ceiling. Mounting it, Penny investigated the fastening, a stout plug of wood. She turned it and pushed up the heavy door. Instantly, it was seized from above and pulled out of the way.
Head and shoulders through the opening, Penny glanced about curiously. The room under the roof certainly did not look like a prison cell. It was snug and warm, with curtains at the windows and books lining the wall shelves. The floor was covered with a bright colored rag rug. There was a comfortable looking bed, a rocker and even a dressing table.
“Thanks for letting me out.”
Penny turned to gaze at the girl who stood directly behind her. She was not very pretty, for her nose was far too blunt and her teeth a trifle uneven. One could see a faint resemblance to Peter Jasko.