IN THE CLOCK CASE
Roger had quite made up his mind that nothing should induce him to
enter the doors of his cousin's home again; and after Mr. Marsh and
Edgar had left him, he hurried back to Princess Street, his heart full
of rage, and took his family into his confidence. Everyone agreed
with him that he had been treated shabbily, and Polly was loud in her
declamations against Edgar. It was Mrs. Trent who tried to soothe the
boy's angry mood, and pointed out to him that the present occasion was
an opportunity for showing a magnanimous spirit.
"You don't mean to say you will make me go to the Rookery to-morrow, do
you, mother?" Roger asked hotly.
"No, dear, certainly not," she answered. "You shall do as you please,
but—"
"Then I shan't go," he broke in, "so that's settled."
"I shan't go, either," declared Polly.
"You interrupted me in the midst of my sentence, Roger," Mrs. Trent
told the little boy in a tone of gentle reproof. "I was going to say
that you shall do as you please, but that by to-morrow I trust you may
see things in a different light. Edgar has treated you badly, that
I grant, but I hope you will forgive him, especially as you say he
offered you an apology, and let him see, by going to the Rookery, that
you do not bear malice in heart."
Roger made no response but when, that evening, his father said his
uncle had sent a message to him to the effect that he should expect
to see him on the following day, he realised that he would have to
overlook his cousin's cowardly conduct and consent to be his guest. "I
daresay Edgar is really sorry, and if so I suppose I ought to forgive
him," he remarked to Polly. "And, though I really don't want to go to
the Rookery, Aunt Janie always gives us a very good tea; so, all things
considered, perhaps we'd better go."
"Very well," agreed his sister, "I daresay you're right. I don't care
so much about the tea, but I should like to see the gardens and the
greenhouses."
"And the horses," supplemented Roger with a brightening face.
So the following afternoon found Polly and Roger the guests of their
cousin at the Rookery. There was unwonted shyness in Edgar's manner
as he met them in the hall and escorted them into the drawing-room to
speak to his mother, and he glanced askance at a bruise beneath Roger's
right eye, which he knew had been caused by his fist whilst Polly and
Roger both felt the awkwardness of the situation.
Mrs. Marsh greeted her little niece and nephew very cordially, and
introduced them to her friends—two fashionably dressed ladies; she
inquired for all at home, and then told them they might do whatever
they liked to amuse themselves as long as they did not get into
mischief. After that she dismissed them, and Edgar led the way upstairs
to the large room which had been his nursery, where he still kept all
his most treasured belongings, including several mechanical toys and a
big rocking-horse which had always been the envy of his cousins. Edgar
was on his best behaviour and tried to make the time pass pleasantly
for his visitors. He showed them his 'Pilgrim's Progress' and was
gratified by their admiration of its illustrations, which were indeed
very fine.
"It's the best mother could get for money," he informed them with great
satisfaction. "I expect it's a much better book than yours, isn't it?"
"Oh yes!" Polly admitted readily; "but I like our old book best."
All sense of awkwardness had died away now, and the three children were
on the best of terms with each other. By-and-by Edgar suggested a game
of hide-and-seek.
"We can hide anywhere in the house we like," he said, "and the nursery
shall be 'home.' Which of us shall hide first?"
"Oh, let me!" cried Polly eagerly.
"Very well," the boys agreed, and Roger added, "I don't suppose we
shall be long finding you."
"Don't be too sure of that," she retorted. "How long will you give me
to find a hiding-place?"
"Five minutes," Edgar replied, "and no longer, mind." Accordingly
the little girl left the boys in the schoolroom, and, after shutting
the door behind her, stole softly downstairs. She peeped into the
dining-room, but there seemed no hiding-place there, unless she got
behind a curtain, which of course would be searched immediately. "I
wish I could think of some really good place," she murmured, as she
stood in the centre of the hall hesitating which way to turn. "Perhaps
I'd better go up in the attics, there are several lumber rooms, I know,
but the boys will be certain to search them carefully."
Then suddenly a brilliant idea flashed through her mind, and her face
broke into smiles. She thought she knew one place where she could
conceal herself where the boys would never dream of looking for her,
but she must be quick and not waste time or the five minutes' grace
allowed her would be up before she had safely secreted herself.
At one side of the hall was a baize-covered swing door leading into
a passage, at the end of which Mr. Marsh's study was situated. Polly
pushed open the swing door, and a minute later she stood on the
threshold of the study. There was nobody in the room, and closing the
door she turned her attention to the tall clock, which, as has already
been said, stood against the wall near the writing-table. With fingers
trembling with eagerness, the little girl opened the door of the oak
case of the clock and peeped inside.
"There's heaps of room for me," she reflected triumphantly as she
scrutinised the swinging pendulum and the heavy iron weights of the old
time-piece. "It will be a splendid hiding-place. I am sure I can get
in, and if I do stop the clock I can easily set it going again. The
boys will never think of looking for me here. But I must hurry."
It was not so easy to get into the case of the clock as she had
anticipated it would be, for the door was nearly two feet from the
ground, but she succeeded in effecting the feat; and, once inside, she
found she could stand upright, though she was obliged to keep in one
position owing to the narrowness of the case. She laughed softly to
herself as she stood there, listening, ready to shut the door of her
hiding-place the minute she should hear sounds of anyone approaching
the room. Thus she waited several minutes; but, before very long, the
silence was broken by Edgar's voice in the passage, saying:
"I don't suppose she's in the study, but we'll have a look. I expect
she's upstairs in the attics somewhere. We must be sharp or she'll
manage to get 'home.'"
Polly smiled to herself and hastily drew the door of the clock case
close. It shut with a "click," and she was in complete darkness. She
heard the boys making a hasty search of the room, then followed the
sound of a door slammed, retreating footsteps, and after that complete
silence. The searchers had never thought of looking inside the case of
the old clock.
"What a famous joke!" thought Polly delightedly. "Now, whilst they're
in the attics I'll slip back to the schoolroom. I shall be on the
laughing side this time."
But she was not so sanguine on that point when, having allowed a few
minutes to elapse, she tried to push open the door of her hiding-place,
for to her dismay it would not move. Then it dawned upon her that she
had made herself a prisoner. Evidently the clock case could only be
opened from the outside.
At first the little girl was more vexed than startled at her situation
as she reflected that her cousin and brother would make merry over
it, and it was not until she had shouted again and again and, knocked
loudly, without bringing anyone to her assistance, that she began to
experience a distinct sense of alarm; but even then she was not very
frightened, for she felt certain her uncle would visit his study on his
return from business, he would doubtless have letters to write, so she
consoled herself with the hope that she would not be a prisoner very
long.
The minutes dragged slowly on, and Polly began to wonder if there were
spiders in the clock, or perhaps earwigs—she had a great horror of
earwigs. She had noticed that the inside of the case was very dusty,
as though it might harbour all sorts of creepy, crawly things; and
suddenly she thought she felt something on her neck, and uttered a cry
of fright. It proved to be only her imagination, however.
"Oh, this is terrible!" she exclaimed, now thoroughly alarmed. "I'm
getting so hot, I believe I shall be suffocated. Oh, will nobody come
to let me out! Roger! Roger!" And she beat against the door of the
clock case with her hand; then listened, but not a sound was to be
heard.
"I expect the boys have given up looking for me and are having tea,"
she thought miserably, with a pang of self-pity, and she shed a few
tears, for she was beginning to feel hungry, and thirsty too. She
pushed desperately against her prison, but the old oaken case was
firmly secured to the wall, and she could not move it though she
exerted all her strength; then she tried to change her position, for
she was growing cramped, but there was not room for her to do so.
Supposing, after all, no one came into the room that night and she had
to remain there till morning, how awful that would be; and the worst of
it was, she could not tell how time was passing, shut up there in the
dark. It appeared to poor Polly that she had already been imprisoned
for hours.
Meanwhile, Roger and Edgar were searching the house from attic to
basement; and it was not until tea-time that they ceased their quest.
Mrs. Marsh had driven out with her visitors, so the boys had their
tea alone in the dining-room, for, as Edgar remarked, it was no good
waiting for Polly to turn up, she could have her tea when she chose to
appear.
"I can't think where she can be," Roger said, a trifle uneasily, when,
after tea, he and his cousin strolled out into the garden. "I suppose
nothing can have happened to her?"
"What could happen to her?" questioned Edgar. "It's stupid of her to
keep away like this." Then, as they encountered a gardener, he asked
him if he had seen Polly anywhere about the grounds, only to receive a
decided reply in the negative.
About six o'clock Mrs. Marsh and her friends returned from their drive,
and were greatly astonished to hear of the little girl's disappearance;
and then Mr. Marsh arrived upon the scene and was informed that his
niece was missing.
"The little monkey is hiding to cause a sensation," he said with a
smile. "Why, Roger, you appear alarmed! That's foolish."
"Polly would not stay away at tea-time if she could help it," the
little boy responded gravely. "I know she must be hungry, because we
had dinner early. Suppose she should be shut up somewhere unable to get
out—in, a chest, perhaps, like the bride in 'The Mistletoe Bough'?"
Everyone laughed at this suggestion; it seemed so very improbable.
"Oh, she'll turn up presently, never fear," said Mr. Marsh consolingly.
"I shouldn't look for her any further. I expect she's laughing in her
sleeve at you all the while." He had been standing, talking, in the
hall, and now he pushed open the baize-covered swing door to go to his
study. "You boys can come and look at my stamps and coins if you like,"
he proceeded. "I don't think Roger has ever seen them. Good gracious!
What on earth is that? Why, someone's calling for help!" And he hurried
down the passage, followed by the boys, and entered the study.
"Oh!" wailed a muffled-sounding, frightened voice, though no one was to
be seen. "Come quickly! Oh, please do come and let me out!"