The Mathews journal. (Mathews C.H. [Court House]) 1903-1937, 1905-08-31

my exercise, and then 1 heard Mar.
garets voice behind me, saying:
'Waith minute, Bob. ListenY
Il strained my ears, and from the
outside l could hear a rumbIing that
seemed to come from far, far away.
It's the machinery l cried. It's
after 1 O'Clock. and they have begun to
work again. No wonder they couldn't
hear usv
by that time / had become really
frightened. and I suppose / must have
temporarily lost my lead. / shouted
wildly until my throat was sore, but
it seemed only to fill our oven trap
with noise. There was no hope what
ever that it would penetrate the thick
brick walls. Suddenly l was startled
into silence by sound of scraping iron
underneath us-a familiar noise to my
ears. Some one had pulled open the
| great damper that shut us off from the
| fires in the cellar below, They were
| going TO heat our oven,
What was thatT exclaimed my sis
ter. touching my hand with her cold
| fingers. What did that noise mean.
BobF She seemed to know our danger
|
Il sinking heart l felt on my face the
! first breath of warm air.
Tell me, Bob demanded Margaret.
) They are heating this oven. aren't
! theyT She had caught my wrist and
pressed it as hard as girl could
squeeze,
Yes" 1 gasped. trying to speak
braveiy. | remember ! felt that II
were alone l should not care nearly so
much. but the idea that my little sister
would have to die, too, put me into
another panic.
| "A second breath of air a good deal
hotter than the first famed my cheek.
1 jumped up with a scream, and beat
and kicked upon the rough brick walls
and on the iron door in blind terror.
Then, exhausted, L crawled along the
floor to the place where Margaret sat.
She was crying quietly could tell be-
cause when l put my arm about her
could feel that she was shaking.
They will never, never hear Usr
she sobbed.
Don't cry. Marcy said 1, patting
her wet cheek while l tried to arouse
my own courage. Perhaps there is
/ another way
Il tried to think. but the heat had
then become almost unbearable; it
stung my nose and seemed to suffocate
me. Once when l touched a place on
one OF the tiles 1 drew my hand back
in real pain. There was no hope of
| breaking the latch of the iron door. and
no one could hear us, though we put
| fn l.
of the door and screamed. was sure
we would be baked. My arm was still
round my sister. and her hand was still
in mine. as if she were seeking the COM
| fort of the touch.
1t was becoming hotter and hotter,
but neither of us spoke for several sec
onds. Then suddenly Margaret started
up and cried out, eagerly, Tell me,
Bob, quick! Have you got a piece of
paperT
II felt in my pockets. Yes, have
an old postal card! 1 exclaimed.
What are you going to do with itT
They can't hear us. but we can
make them seer she cried. Hurry!
Give it to me-and your jack-knifer
Il handed them to her. and she began
/
the point of the knife.
1--WE need thread she explained. ex-
citedly, and if this is n chain-stitch on
this hem we can get itr L lighted a
match. And it is, Bob 1t isr she cried
| realized that she had caught an end of
thread and was carefully ripping it
out.
Now, Bob she commanded, hand
ing me the card, punch a hole in the
card and tie it through Her voice
was weak. From my own struggle to
keep my senses in the awful heat,
knew that she was nearly at the col
lapsing point.
What are you going to do with it p
l gasped.
"'The door" she answered, family.
bangle the card through the crack in
the door" Then l understood her plan
at last, and crawling painfully over on
my knees thrust the postal card down
the little crack between the door and
the iron jamb.
Pull it up and let it down! cried
Margaret. with q final effort. and /
jiggled the string so that the paper
would dance upon the wall outside
My head swan with the effect of the
terrible heat and it seemed ages before
any one came.
Then suddenly the latch was lifted
the door swung open, and in spite OF
the binding daylight which poured in
l could see the astonished face of old
Carberry, the baker, peering in at u.s.
81 caught my sisters dress, pulling
her toward the opening with all the
strength that was left in me, and fell
out after her into the old mans arms.
THAT is why I say" concluded Mr.
Colchester, as he looked round upon us
with smile, that it was n girls wit
that kept me from being baked like q
biscuit. And that is the reason why
] TINT n rrirIfc ic flan hnc In, q