“And so young!” continued Mr. Janks, without paying any attention to my remarks, and still apostrophizing the ceiling. “But it’s allus the way! The younger they are, the worse they are!” Then he launched forth into a description of the number of bad boys who had passed through his hands, and endeavored to draw a parallel between their case and mine, but, I think, with poor success. He kept up this monologue for at least ten minutes, while I sat on the couch and listened with anything but pleasurable emotions. At the end of that time he came to a sudden stop, and went out slowly, groaning dismally. When the sound of his footsteps had died away down the corridor, I surrendered myself to my thoughts. And how I did think! What had been all my trouble compared to this? _In prison!_ The thought was horrifying! I felt now that I would not dare return home--for who would not shrink from me as a malefactor? Besides, I was extremely dubious as to my impending fate. I was not afraid of being convicted of larceny, unless Mary Jane Robinson perjured herself; but I was desperately afraid of Mr. Barron. I knew he took the Lancaster Examiner, and should he see my name in it, I felt certain he would pounce down on me, and then--well, something terrible would certainly happen. The sky looked very dark and cloudy just then, and you may easily imagine how bitterly I regretted my foolishness in running away. I lay awake for an hour or more thinking in this fashion, and then I fell into a fitful slumber. How long I slept, I don’t know; but when I awoke it was with a strange feeling that I was not alone--that some one was in the cell with me. I was wide awake in an instant, and my heart beat so loudly that I fancied I could hear it. I listened intently, and presently heard a light “pitapat,” as if some one was walking across the floor; and while I was trying to muster up courage to call out, there was a sharp click, a flood of light illumined the cell, and I saw that the intruder was a man. He was standing near the opposite wall, and in his hand he held a lighted wax taper, with the aid of which he was taking a survey of the room. As he turned slowly around, I saw that he was young, rather good-looking, and well-dressed, and at the same time he saw me. He started, and with an exclamation of alarm, dropped the taper. In an instant, however, he recovered the taper and himself, and advanced toward me. “Who are you?” he demanded. “And how did you get here?” I related, in a few words, who I was and how I came to be incarcerated. He laughed lightly when I had finished, and said: “I suppose you wonder how _I_ came here. Look!” I looked, and saw an aperture in the wall about two feet square. “I came through that,” he said, laughing softly at my evident astonishment. “My cell is on the other side. Now, I am going to escape from this jail, and I want you to go with me.”