"Hush!" some one muttered in the darkness. "Who is that?" "It is I--Jack," the boy cried joyfully "Please to let me out." "Where are you?" "I am locked in the closet by the fireplace, Gridley." "Hush! Is the key in the door?" "I think so!" Jack answered desperately. "Oh, please, please let me out." There was the sound of a hand being passed over the door, as if some one unacquainted with it, and uncertain on which side it opened, were groping for the fastening. It seemed an age to the boy before the key grated suddenly in the lock and the door yielded, and he felt the cold air rush in. For a moment he still hung back. "Is it you, Gridley?" he whispered timidly, putting out his hand and trying to pierce the darkness, which was scarcely less dense in the kitchen than in the closet. "No, it is I--Frank!" his brother's voice answered. And thereon a hand seized him roughly by the shoulder and drew him out. "I must have food--food!" the voice hissed in his ear. "Don't waste a moment, lad, but tell me where it is kept. The woman is outside digging among the trees--heaven knows on what witch's errand! She may return at any moment. Where is the food kept?" The harsh, fierce note in his brother's voice did more than any words to persuade the boy of the necessity of haste. Collecting his senses as well as he could, he answered, "Will oatmeal do, Frank?" "Better than nothing," was the answer. "Where is the tub? Lead me to it." Jack felt his way to the chest, and found it; to his joy it was still unfastened. His brother rapidly took out several handfuls and thrust them into his pouch. "Have you no cheese, oatcake, nothing else, lad?" he muttered. Jack remembered the scraps of cheese and cake which he still carried in the bosom of his jacket, and gave them into the other's hand. "Now I am off," Frank muttered on the instant. "I can do with this until to-morrow night. If the woman finds me here I must do her a mischief, and I do not want to. So good-night, lad!"