There was no floor beneath, so that the drop was greater than he had counted on.

He fell among loose kindling wood with more noise than he would have desired, quickly rose, stumbled in the dusk against a bucket half filled with whitewash, and sprawled again into a pile of soft coal.
"Gee, gosh!" he muttered, heartily, as he rose a second time.
Both the well-spread pallor of the whitewash and the sable sprinkling of coal dust put him beyond any chance of a felicitous public appearance.
But he was safe in a dusky corner.

He remained there, breathing heavily.
At last he heard Winona call him from the Penniman porch.

Twice she called; then he knew she would be crossing to the little house to know what detained him.

He heard her call again--knew that she would be searching the four rooms over there.