“‘It’s just like a cave, isn’t it, Bob?’ cried my sister; and I laughed at the idea and asked her whether she expected to see a bear or a robber walk out. “‘Of course I don’t!’ she said, for she always was on her guard against my making fun of her. ‘Let’s crawl in.’ “‘All right,’ said I, touching the brick walls to make sure I hadn’t made a mistake; and then I followed her inside through the gloomy opening. “‘Will it get my dress dirty?’ Margaret asked, out of the darkness. “‘No, indeed,’ said I. ‘They have to keep these ovens clean as can be. They’re fussy about every speck of dust.’ “I had hardly finished when the iron door behind us shut with a resounding clang. One of the workmen who had come back to work had closed it! “‘O Bob,’ cried my sister, with a little scream of fright, ‘we’re shut in!’ “‘Like two biscuits,’ I laughed. ‘Don’t you mind. All we have to do is to shout and some one will come.’ “But Margaret was really scared, and groped her way near me to put her hand on my shoulder. I confess the darkness and the close, stuffy air were far from cheerful. “I began to call as loud as I could, and not getting any answer, I crept over to the solid iron door and began kicking it with my heels. After a moment I stopped, breathing hard from my exercise, and then I heard Margaret’s voice behind me, saying: “‘Wait a minute, Bob! Listen!’ “I strained my ears, and from the outside I could hear a rumbling that seemed to come from far, far away. “‘It’s the machinery!’ I cried. ‘It’s after one o’clock, and they have begun work again. No wonder they couldn’t hear us!’ “By that time I had become really frightened, and I suppose I must have temporarily lost my head. I shouted wildly until my throat was sore, but it seemed only to fill our oven trap with noise. There was no hope whatever that it would penetrate the thick brick walls. Suddenly I was startled into silence by a sound of scraping iron underneath us—a familiar noise to my ears. Some one had pulled open the great damper that shut us off from the fires in the cellar below! They were going to heat our oven! “‘What was that?’ exclaimed my sister, touching my hand with her cold fingers. ‘What did that noise mean, Bob?’ She seemed to know our danger by instinct. I did not answer, for with a sinking heart I felt on my face the first breath of warm air! “‘Tell me, Bob!’ demanded Margaret. ‘They are heating this oven, aren’t they?’ She had caught my wrist and pressed it as hard as a girl could squeeze. “‘Yes!’ I gasped, trying to speak bravely. I remember I felt that if I were alone I should not care nearly so much, but the idea that my little sister would have to die, too, put me into another panic.