"Well, well, my dear, make haste now, your uncle is none of the
patientest, and he has been waiting breakfast for some time! Come,
open the door and I will help you to dress, so that you may be ready
sooner."
Capitola rose from the side of the bed, where she had been sitting,
and went cautiously around that gaping trap door to her chamber
door, when she missed the key, and suddenly remembered that it had
been in Black Donald's pocket when he fell. A shudder thrilled her
frame at the thought of that horrible fall.
"Well--well--Miss Capitola, why don't you open the door?" cried the
old lady, impatiently.
"Mrs. Condiment, I have lost the key--dropped it down the trap-door.
Please ask uncle to send for some one to take the lock off--and
don't wait breakfast for me."
"Well, I do think that was very careless, my dear; but I'll go at
once," said the old lady, moving away.
She had not been gone more than ten minutes, when Old Hurricane was
heard, coming blustering along the hall and calling:
"What now, you imp of Satan? What mischief have you been at now?
Opening the trap-door, you mischievous monkey! I wish from the
bottom of my soul you had fallen into it, and I should have got rid
of one trial! Losing your key, you careless baggage! I've a great
mind to leave you locked up there forever."
Thus scolding, Old Hurricane reached the spot and began to ply
screw-drivers and chisels until at length the strong lock yielded,
and he opened the door.
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