I came down the
dumb-waiter, when they left me. I left the little door ajar--Can
you pull me up again? He is on the eighth floor. It is a long
pull--Oh, if we can only make it before they return."
Her eyes sparkled with the thrill of the mad game, as she ran
once more, Shirley keeping pace with her. The flurries of the
snowstorm protected them from too-curious observation, as the
streets seemed deserted by pedestrians who feared the growing
blizzard. She led him to the tradesman's entrance of the
Somerset, into the dark corridor through which she had emerged.
"Don't strike a light, for I can feel the way. We mustn't be
seen."
Shirley obeyed,--at last she found the base of the dumbwaiter
shaft.
"How did you have the strength to lower yourself down this shaft
--it is no small task?" and his tone was admiring.
"I am not a weakling--tennis, boating, swimming were all in my
education; they helped. But it is beyond me to pull all those
floors, and lift my weight. Pull up as far as the little
elevator car goes, then go away and come to his party to look for
me.
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