She had thought the wooden buttons would give way, but by the clinking sound she knew that the iron bar had been put across.

She was quite quiet for a time.

Clambering down, she took from the table a small one-bladed penknife, with which she began to peck at the hard wood of the shutter.
"What are you doing now ?" asked Em, who had ceased crying in her wonder, and had drawn near.
"Trying to make a hole," was the short reply.
"Do you think you will be able to ?" "No; but I am trying." In an agony of suspense Em waited.

For ten minutes Lyndall pecked.

The hole was three-eighths of an inch deep--then the blade sprung into ten pieces.
"What has happened now ?" Em asked, blubbering afresh.
"Nothing," said Lyndall.