"Well," said Mr. Jones, looking reproachfully at the mistress of the
house, "I've never 'andled a pianner----"
At this moment a well-known voice was heard in the recesses of the
van, behind the piano and sideboard and hat-stand.
"Hey! let me out! What you've gone blockin' up the van for? I can't
get out!"
There was a horror-stricken silence. Then Ethel said sharply:
"What did you go _in_ for?"
The mysterious voice came again with a note of irritability.
"Well, I was _restin'_. I mus' have some rest, mustn't I? I've been
helpin' all mornin'."
"Well, couldn't you _see_ we were putting things in?"
The unseen presence spoke again.
"No, I can't. I wasn't lookin'!"
"You can't get out, William," said Mrs. Brown desperately. "We can't
move everything again. You must just stop there till it's unpacked.
We'll try to push your lunch in to you."
There was determination in the voice that answered, "I want to get
out! I'm _going_ to get out!"
There came tumultuous sounds--the sound of the ripping of some
material, of the smashing of glass and of William's voice softly
ejaculating "Crumbs! that ole lookin' glass gettin' in the way!"
"You'd better take out the piano again," said Mrs. Brown wanly. "It's
the only thing to do."
With straining, and efforts, and groans, and a certain amount of
destruction, the piano was eventually lowered again to the ground.
Then the sideboard and hat-stand were moved to one side, and finally
there emerged from the struggle--William and Jumble.
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