[Illustration: "'I think I hear some one coming upstairs'"] "Ah, this is better than Angelina's whip," and then they all shouted again, recalling the episode of Angelina and the switch. "Hush! hark!" cried Concetta, with her hand at her ear; "I think I hear some one coming upstairs." "Shut the trunk! Let's go into the closet;" and as she spoke the other two followed her into the closet. It was a large closet with a transom that let in a certain amount of light, and at first their situation seemed rather amusing to the three. Haleema, who had gone in last, had closed the door with a snap, and after a few minutes had passed she started to open it again. But, alas! she could not lift the latch. Evidently it had closed with a spring, and they would have to wait until some one should come to their relief. At first, as before, they giggled a little; then, as they realized their situation, they sobered down. "Suppose no one should come; we might have to stay all night." "They may think that we've run away, and so they won't look for us." "Oh, some one will remember that we didn't go downstairs; they'll come up here the first thing." "No, no, don't you remember how the others all ran down ahead of us? They won't remember." "Gretchen's the only one who might think of this room. I told her the other day that I meant to come in some time." "That won't do no good," rejoined Haleema; "she'll be glad to have you shut up." "We're better off here than we would be in that trunk," continued Haleema thoughtfully. "I read a poem the other day about a girl that got shut up in a chest, and she did not get out until she was dead. She was an Italian, too," she said, looking suggestively toward Concetta, "and her name was Jinerva." Whereupon Concetta began to weep softly, either in sympathy for her countrywoman or from fear that as an Italian she was more likely to suffer than the others. "Oh, that's nothing," said Inez; "why, we had a history lesson once about the Black Hole. Everybody that went into it died, and there were dozens of people." "Why did they go in?" asked Concetta with a languid interest. "Oh, it was in war; I don't remember much about it, only they all died." "Well, this isn't a black hole," said Haleema cheerfully; "there's quite a little light comes in at that window." And she began to hum, "'When a spring lock that lay in ambush there Fastened her down forever.' There, that's the last of that Jinerva poem; I couldn't help remembering it; I read it over several times." "Oh, Haleema, and we're fastened in with a spring lock." "Oh, we'll get out all right," said Haleema cheerfully; "'where there's a will, there's a way.'" While she spoke she was moving about the closet. "I wouldn't meddle any more; if you hadn't meddled with that trunk we wouldn't be in here now."