_Miller_, arresting the boy’s efforts: “Well, hold on—stop! What are you doing?” _The Elevator Boy_: “Trying to make it go.” _Miller_: “Well, don’t be so—violent about it. You might break something.” _The Elevator Boy_: “Break a wire rope like that!” _Miller_: “Well, well, be quiet now. Ladies, I think you’d better sit down—and as gently as possible. I wouldn’t move about much.” _Mrs. Curwen_: “Move! We’re stone. And I wish for my part I were a feather.” _Miller_, to the boy: “Er—a—er—where do you suppose we are?” _The Elevator Boy_: “We’re in the shaft between the fourth and fifth floors.” He attempts a fresh demonstration on the rope, but is prevented. _Miller_: “Hold on! Er—er”— _Mrs. Crashaw_, as if the boy had to be communicated with through an interpreter: “Ask him if it’s ever happened before.” _Miller_: “Yes. Were you ever caught before?” _The Elevator Boy_: “No.” _Miller_: “He says no.” _Mrs. Crashaw_: “Ask him if the elevator has a safety device.” _Miller_: “Has it got a safety device?” _The Elevator Boy_: “How should I know?” _Miller_: “He says he don’t know.” _Mrs. Curwen_, in a shriek of hysterical laughter: “Why, he understands English!” _Mrs. Crashaw_, sternly ignoring the insinuation: “Ask him if there’s any means of calling the janitor.” _Miller_: “Could you call the janitor?” _The Elevator Boy_, ironically: “Well, there ain’t any telephone attachment.” _Miller_, solemnly: “No, he says there isn’t.” _Mrs. Crashaw_, sinking back on the seat with resignation: “Well, I don’t know what my niece will say.” _Miss Lawton_: “Poor papa!” _Young Mr. Bemis_, gathering one of her wandering hands into his: “Don’t be frightened. I’m sure there’s no danger.” _The Elevator Boy_, indignantly: “Why, she can’t drop. The cogs in the runs won’t let her!” _All_: “Oh!” _Miller_, with a sigh of relief: “I knew there must be something of the kind. Well, I wish my wife had her fan.” _Mrs. Curwen_: “And if I had my left glove I should be perfectly happy. Not that I know what the cogs in the runs are!” _Mrs. Crashaw_: “Then we’re merely caught here?” _Miller_: “That’s all.” _Mrs. Curwen_: “It’s quite enough for the purpose. Couldn’t you put on a life-preserver, Mr. Miller, and go ashore and get help from the natives?” _Miss Lawton_, putting her handkerchief to her eyes: “Oh, dear!” _Mrs. Crashaw_, putting her arm around her: “Don’t be frightened, my child. There’s no danger.” _Young Mr. Bemis_, caressing the hand which he holds: “Don’t be frightened.” _Miss Lawton_: “Don’t leave me.” _Young Mr. Bemis_: “No, no; I won’t. Keep fast hold of my hand.” _Miss Lawton_: “Oh, yes, I will! I’m ashamed to cry.” _Young Mr. Bemis_, fervently: “Oh, you needn’t be! It is perfectly natural you should.”