"I shall freeze. I shall freeze," wailed Judy.
"Are you very cold, Judy?" shivered Anne, sympathetically.
"It's so dark—and damp. Let me out, let me out," and Judy's voice rose to a shriek.
"Now, my dear, be calm," advised the Judge, whose hands were shaking with nervousness, "I shall call Perkins—yes, I really think I shall have to call Perkins—" and he hurried through the hall to the speaking tubes.
"Is there anything to eat in there?" Anne asked through the keyhole.
"Lots of things," said Judy. "I lighted a match as I came in, and there are lots of things. But I don't want anything to eat—I want to get out—I want to get out."
"Don't cry, Judy," advised Anne soothingly, "the Judge has called
Perkins and he is coming down now."
Perkins emerged into the light of the lower hallway in a state of informal attire and unsettled temper. His dignity was his stock in trade, and how could one be dignified in an old overcoat and bedroom slippers? But the Judge's summons had been peremptory and there had been no time for the niceties of toilet in which Perkins' orderly soul revelled.
"There ain't no other key," he said, severely. "I guess we will have to wait until mornin', sir."
"But we can't wait until morning," raged the Judge, "the young lady will freeze."