"What will Mr. Mudge, the owner of the house, think of it?" she exclaimed. "Have we a right to injure the wall of the house?" "It is right to preserve ourselves from starving," said Mr. Peterkin. "The drowning man must snatch at a straw!" "It is better that he should find his house chopped a little when the thaw comes," said Elizabeth Eliza, "than that he should find us lying about the house, dead of hunger, upon the floor." Mrs. Peterkin was partially convinced. The little boys came in to warm their hands. They had not succeeded in opening the side door, and were planning trying to open the door from the wood-house to the garden. [Illustration] "That would be of no use," said Mrs. Peterkin, "the butcher cannot get into the garden." "But we might shovel off the snow," suggested one of the little boys, "and dig down to some of last year's onions." [Illustration] Meanwhile, Mr. Peterkin, Agamemnon, and Solomon John had been bringing together their carpenter's tools, and Elizabeth Eliza proposed using a gouge, if they would choose the right spot to begin. [Illustration] The little boys were delighted with the plan, and hastened to find,--one, a little hatchet, and the other a gimlet. Even Amanda armed herself with a poker. "It would be better to begin on the ground floor," said Mr. Peterkin. "Except that we may meet with a stone foundation," said Solomon John. [Illustration] "If the wall is thinner upstairs," said Agamemnon, "it will do as well to cut a window as a door, and haul up anything the butcher may bring below in his cart." Everybody began to pound a little on the wall to find a favorable place, and there was a great deal of noise. The little boys actually cut a bit out of the plastering with their hatchet and gimlet. Solomon John confided to Elizabeth Eliza that it reminded him of stories of prisoners who cut themselves free, through stone walls, after days and days of secret labor. [Illustration] Mrs. Peterkin, even, had come with a pair of tongs in her hand. She was interrupted by a voice behind her. "Here's your leg of mutton, marm!" It was the butcher. How had he got in? "Excuse me, marm, for coming in at the side door, but the back gate is kinder blocked up. You were making such a pounding I could not make anybody hear me knock at the side door." "But how did you make a path to the door?" asked Mr. Peterkin. "You must have been working at it a long time. It must be near noon now." [Illustration] "I'm about on regular time," answered the butcher. "The town team has cleared out the high road, and the wind has been down the last half-hour. The storm is over." True enough! The Peterkins had been so busy inside the house they had not noticed the ceasing of the storm outside. "And we were all up an hour earlier than usual," said Mr. Peterkin, when the butcher left. He had not explained to the butcher why he had a pickaxe in his hand.