_Mrs. Curwen_: “I’m too badly scared for tears. Mr. Miller, you seem to be in charge of this expedition—couldn’t you do something? Throw out ballast, or let the boy down in a parachute? Or I’ve read of a shipwreck where the survivors, in an open boat, joined in a cry, and attracted the notice of a vessel that was going to pass them. We might join in a cry.” _Miller_: “Oh, it’s all very well joking, Mrs. Curwen”— _Mrs. Curwen_: “You call it joking!” _Miller_: “But it’s not so amusing, being cooped up here indefinitely. I don’t know how we’re to get out. We can’t join in a cry, and rouse the whole house. It would be ridiculous.” _Mrs. Curwen_: “And our present attitude is so eminently dignified! Well, I suppose we shall have to cast lots pretty soon to see which of us shall be sacrificed to nourish the survivors. It’s long past dinner-time.” _Miss Lawton_, breaking down: “Oh, _don’t_ say such terrible things.” _Young Mr. Bemis_, indignantly comforting her: “Don’t, don’t cry. There’s no danger. It’s perfectly safe.” _Miller_ to _The Elevator Boy_: “Couldn’t you climb up the cable, and get on to the landing, and—ah!—get somebody?” _The Elevator Boy_: “I could, maybe, if there was a hole in the roof.” _Miller_, glancing up: “Ah! true.” _Mrs. Crashaw_, with an old lady’s serious kindness: “My boy, can’t you think of anything to do for us?” _The Elevator Boy_ yielding to the touch of humanity, and bursting into tears: “No, ma’am, I can’t. And everybody’s blamin’ me, as if I done it. What’s my poor mother goin’ to do?” _Mrs. Crashaw_, soothingly: “But you said the runs in the cogs”— _The Elevator Boy_: “How can I tell! That’s what they say. They hain’t never been tried.” _Mrs. Curwen_, springing to her feet: “There! I knew I should. Oh”—She sinks fainting to the floor. _Mrs. Crashaw_, abandoning Miss Lawton to the ministrations of young Mr. Bemis, while she kneels beside Mrs. Curwen and chafes her hand: “Oh, poor thing! I knew she was overwrought by the way she was keeping up. Give her air, Mr. Miller. Open a—Oh, there isn’t any window!” _Miller_, dropping on his knees, and fanning Mrs. Curwen: “There! there! Wake up, Mrs. Curwen. I didn’t mean to scold you for joking. I didn’t, indeed. I—I—I don’t know what the deuce I’m up to.” He gathers Mrs. Curwen’s inanimate form in his arms, and fans her face where it lies on his shoulder. “I don’t know what my wife would say if”— _Mrs. Crashaw_: “She would say that you were doing your duty.” _Miller_, a little consoled: “Oh, do you think so? Well, perhaps.” _Young Mr. Bemis_: “Do you feel faint at all, Miss Lawton?” _Miss Lawton_: “No, I think not. No, not if you say it’s safe.” _Young Mr. Bemis_: “Oh, I’m sure it is!” _Miss Lawton_, renewing her hold upon his hand: “Well, then! Perhaps I hurt you?” _Young Mr. Bemis_: “No, no! You couldn’t.” _Miss Lawton_: “How kind you are!” _Mrs. Curwen_, opening her eyes: “Where”—