Open, open, open, before I faint."
She had evidently sunk down on the floor sobbing, after making that
practical suggestion; and, casting about for burglarious implements
to aid me, I found the spit and a wedge-shaped piece of hard wood.
These I inserted just above and below the lock, and, forcing back the
door on its frame, I soon had the satisfaction of seeing the bolt slip
from the catch.
Out sprang Cleta, flushed, tearful, her hair all in disorder, but
laughing gleefully at having regained her liberty.
"Oh, dear friend, I thought you were going to leave me!" she cried.
"How agitated I am--feel how my heart beats. Never mind, I can now pay
that wretch out. Is not revenge sweet, sweet, sweet?"
"Now, Cleta," I said, "take three mouthfuls of fresh air and a drink
of water, then let me lock you in again."
She laughed mockingly, and shook her hair like a wild young colt.
"Ah, you are not serious--do you not think I know?" she cried. "Your
eyes tell me everything. Besides, you could not shut me up again if
you tried." Here she made a sudden dash at the door, but I caught her
and held her a close prisoner.
"Let me go, monster--oh, no, not monster, dear, sweet friend, beautiful
as the--moon, sun, stars. I am dying for fresh air. I will come back
to the oven before he returns. If he caught me out, what blows! Come,
let us sit under the tree together.
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