Just Sixteen.

by Susan Coolidge

  IMPRISONED.

  The big house stood in the middle of a big open space, with wide lawnsabout it shaded by cherry-trees and lilac-bushes, toward the south anold-fashioned garden, and back of that the apple-orchard.

  The little house was on the edge of the grounds, and had its frontentrance on the road. Its doors were locked and its windows shutterednow, for no one had lived in it for several years.

  Three little girls lived in the big house. Lois, who was eight yearsold, and Emmy, who was seven, were sisters. Kitty, their cousin, alsoseven, had lived with them so long that she seemed like another sister.There was, besides, Marianne, the cook's baby; but as she was not quitethree, she did not count for much with the older ones, though theysometimes condescended to play with her.

  It was a place of endless pleasure to these happy country children, andthey needed no wider world than it afforded them. All summer long theyplayed in the open air. They built bowers in the feathery asparagus;they knew every bird's-nest in the syringa-bushes and the thickguelder-roses, and were so busy all the time that they rarely found amoment in which to quarrel.

  One day in July their mother and father had occasion to leave home for along afternoon and evening.

  "You can stay outdoors till half-past six," Mrs. Spenser said to herlittle girls; "then you must come in to tea, and at half-past seven youmust go to bed as usual. You may play where you like in the grounds, butyou must not go outside the gate." She kissed them for good-by."Remember to be good," she said. Then she got into the carriage anddrove away.

  The children were very good for several hours. They played that littleMarianne was their baby, and was carried off by a gypsy. Lois was thegypsy, and the chase and recapture of the stolen child made an excitinggame.

  At last they got tired of this, and the question arose: "What shall wedo next?"

  "I wish mother would let us play down the road," said Emmy. "The Noysechildren's mother lets them."

  "I'll tell you what we'll do," said Lois, struck by a sudden brightidea. "Let's go down to the shut-up house. That isn't outside the gate."

  "O Lois! yes, it is. You can't go to the front door without walking onthe road."

  "Well, who said anything about the front door? I'm going to look in atthe back windows. Mother never said we mustn't do that."

  Still, it was with a sense of guilt that the three stole across thelawn; and they kept in the shadow of the hedge, as if afraid some onewould see and call them back. Little Marianne, with her rag doll in herarms, began to run after them.

  "There's that little plague tagging us," said Kitty.

  "Go back, Marianne; we don't want you." Then, when Marianne would not goback, they all ran away, and left her crying.

  The shut-up house looked dull and ghostly enough. The front was in deepshadow from the tall row of elms that bordered the road, but at theback the sun shone hotly. It glowed through the low, dusty window of acellar, and danced and gleamed on something bright which lay on thefloor within.

  "What do you suppose it is?" said Emmy, as they all stooped to look. "Itlooks like real gold. Perhaps some pirates hid it there, and no one hascome since but us."

  "Or perhaps it's a mine," cried Lois,--"a mine of jewels. See, it's allpurple, like the stones in mother's breastpin. Wouldn't it be fun if itwas? We wouldn't tell anybody, and we could buy such splendid things."

  "We must get in and find out," added Kitty.

  Just then a wail sounded close at hand, and a very woful, tear-stainedlittle figure appeared. It was Marianne. The poor baby had trotted allthe long distance in the sun after her unkind playfellows.

  "Oh, dear! You little nuisance! What made you come?" demanded Emmy.

  "I 'ant to," was all Marianne's explanation.

  "Well, don't cry. Now you've come, you can play," remarked Lois; andMarianne was consoled.

  They began to try the windows in turn, and at last found one in awood-shed which was unfastened. Kitty scrambled in, and admitted theothers, first into the wood-shed and then into a very dusty kitchen. Thecellar stairs opened from this. They all ran down, but--oh,disappointment!--the jewel-mine proved to be only the half of a brokenteacup with a pattern on it in gold and lilac. This was a terriblecome-down from a pirate treasure.

  "Pshaw!" said Kitty. "Only an old piece of crockery. I don't think it'sfair to cheat like that."

  Little Marianne had been afraid to venture down into the cellar, and nowstayed at the top waiting for them.

  "Let's run away from her," suggested Kitty, who was cross after herdisappointment.

  So they all hopped over Marianne, and, deaf to her cries, ran upstairsto the second story as fast as they could go. There were four bare,dusty chambers, all unfurnished.

  "There she comes," cried Kitty, as Marianne was heard climbing thestairs. "Where shall we hide from her? Oh, here's a place!"

  She had spied a closet door, fastened with a large old-fashioned ironlatch. She flew across the room. It was a narrow closet, with a shelfacross the top of it.

  "Hurry, hurry!" called Kitty. The others made haste. They squeezedthemselves into the closet, and banged the door to behind them. Not tillit was firmly fastened did they notice that there was no latch inside,or handle of any sort, and that they had shut themselves in, and had nopossible way of getting out again.

  Their desire to escape from Marianne changed at once into dismay. Theykicked and pounded, but the stout old-fashioned door did not yield.Marianne could be heard crying without. There was a round hole in thedoor just above the latch. Putting her eye to this, Lois could see thepoor little thing, doll in arms, standing in the middle of the floor,uncertain what to do.

  "Marianne!" she called, "here we are, in the closet. Come and let usout, that's a good baby. Put your little hand up and push the latch. Youcan, if you will only try."

  "I'll show you how," added Kitty, taking her turn at the peep-hole."See, come close to the door, and Kitty will tell you what to do."

  But these mysterious voices speaking out of the unseen frightenedMarianne too much to allow of her doing anything helpful.

  "I tan't! I tan't!" she wailed, not venturing near the door.

  "Oh, do try, please do!" pleaded Lois. "I'll give you my china doll ifyou will, Marianne."

  "And I'll give you my doll's bedstead," added Emmy. "You'd like that, Iknow. Dear little Marianne, do try to let us out. Please do. We're sotired of this old closet."

  But still Marianne repeated, "Tan't, tan't." And at last she sat down onthe floor and wept. The imprisoned children wept with her.

  "I've thought of a plan," said Emmy at last. "If you'll break one of theteeth out of your shell comb, Lois, I think I can push it through thehole and raise the latch up."

  Alas! the hole was above the latch, not below it. Half the teeth werebroken out of Lois's comb in their attempt, and with no result exceptthat they fell through the hole to the floor outside. At intervals theyrenewed their banging and pounding on the door, but it only tired themout, and did no good.

  It was a very warm afternoon, and, as time went on, the closet becameunendurably hot. Emmy sank down exhausted on the floor, and she andKitty began to sob wildly. Lois alone kept her calmness. Little Mariannehad grown wonderfully quiet. Peeping through the hole, Lois saw that shehad gone to sleep on the floor.

  "Don't cry so, Kitty," she said. "It's no use. We were naughty to comehere. I suppose we've got to die in this closet, and it is my fault. Weshall starve to death pretty soon, and no one will know what has becomeof us till somebody takes the house; and when they come to clean it andthey open the closet door, they will find our bones."

  Kitty screamed louder than ever at this terrible picture.

  "Oh, hush!" said her cousin. "The only thing we can do now is to pray.God is the only person that can help us. Mamma says he is close to everyperson who prays. He can hear us if we are in the closet."

  Then Lois made this little prayer:--

  "Our Father who art in heaven. We have been naughty, and came down h
erewhen mamma didn't give us leave to come; but please forgive us. We won'tdisobey again, if only Thou wilt. We make a promise. Help us. Show usthe way to get out of this closet. Don't let us die here, with no one toknow where we are. We ask it for Jesus Christ's sake. Forever andforever. Amen."

  It was a droll little prayer, but Lois put all her heart into it. Ahuman listener might have smiled at the odd turn of the phrases; but Godknew what she meant, and he never turns away from real prayer. Heanswered Lois.

  How did he answer her? Did he send a strong angel to lift up the latchof the door? He might have done that, you know, as he did for Peter inprison. But that was not the way he chose in this instance. What he didwas to put a thought into Lois's mind.

  She stood silent for a while after she had finished praying.

  "Children," she said, "I have thought of something. Kitty, you are thelightest. Do you think Emmy and I could push you up on to the shelf?"

  It was not an easy thing to do, for the place was narrow; but at last,with Lois and Emmy "boosting," and Kitty scrambling, it wasaccomplished.

  "Now, Kitty, put your back against the wall," said Lois, "and when I say'One, two, three,' push the door with your feet as hard as you can,while we push below."

  Kitty braced herself, and at the word "three," they all exerted theirutmost strength. One second more, and--oh, joy!--the latch gave way, andthe door flew open. Kitty tumbled from the shelf, the others fellforward on the floor,--they were out! Lois had bumped her head, andEmmy's shoulder was bruised; but what was that? They were free.

  "Let us run, run!" cried Lois, catching Marianne up in her arms. "Inever want to see this horrible house again."

  So they ran downstairs, and out through the wood-shed into the open air.Oh, how sweet the sunshine looked, and the wind felt, after their fearand danger!

  Their mother taught them a little verse next morning, after they hadtold her all about their adventure and made confession of their fault;and Lois said it to herself every day all her life afterward. This isit:--

  "God is never far away; God is listening all the day. When we tremble, when we fear, The dear Lord is quick to hear,-- Quick to hear, and quick to save, Quick to grant each prayer we make, For the precious Gift he gave, For his Son our Saviour's sake."

  "I love that hymn," Lois used to say; "and I know it's true, because Godheard us just as well in that little bit of a closet as if we had beenin church!"