“What has he done?” asked the old man.

“He is acquainted with a secret dangerous to both of us,” answered Peg, with intentional prevarication; for she knew that, if it were supposed that she only had an interest in Jack’s detention, they would not take the trouble to keep him.

“Ha!” exclaimed the old man; “is that so?  Then, I warrant me, he can’t get out unless he has sharp claws.”

“Fairly trapped, my young bird,” thought Peg, as she hastened away; “I rather think that will put a stop to your troublesome interference for the present.  You haven’t lived quite long enough to be a match for old Peg.  You’ll find that out by and by.  Ha, ha! won’t your worthy uncle, the baker, be puzzled to know why you don’t come home to-night?”

Meanwhile Jack, wholly unsuspicious that any trick had been played upon him, seated himself in a rocking-chair, waiting impatiently for the coming of Ida, whom he was resolved to carry back with him to New York if his persuasions could effect it.

Impelled by a natural curiosity he examined, attentively, the room in which he was seated.  It was furnished moderately well; that is, as well as the sitting-room of a family in moderate circumstances.  The floor was covered with a plain carpet.  There was a sofa, a mirror, and several chairs covered with hair-cloth were standing stiffly at the windows.  There were one or two engravings, of no great artistic excellence, hanging against the walls.  On the centre-table were two or three books.  Such was the room into which Jack had been introduced.

Jack waited patiently for twenty minutes.  Then he began to grow impatient.

“Perhaps Ida is out,” thought our hero; “but, if she is, Mrs. Hardwick ought to come and let me know.”

Another fifteen minutes passed, and still Ida came not.

“This is rather singular,” thought Jack.  “She can’t have told Ida that I am here, or I am sure she would rush up at once to see her brother Jack.”

At length, tired of waiting, and under the impression that he had been forgotten, Jack walked to the door, and placing his hand upon the latch, attempted to open it.

There was a greater resistance than he had anticipated.

Supposing that it must stick, he used increased exertion, but the door perversely refused to open.

“Good heavens!” thought Jack, the real state of the case flashing upon him, “is it possible that I am locked in?”

To determine this he employed all his strength, but the door still resisted.  He could no longer doubt.

He rushed to the windows.  There were two in number, and looked out upon a court in the rear of the house.  No part of the street was visible from them; therefore there was no hope of drawing the attention of passers-by to his situation.

Confounded by this discovery, Jack sank into his chair in no very enviable state of mind.

“Well,” thought he, “this is a pretty situation for me to be in!  I wonder what father would say if he knew that I was locked up like a prisoner.  And then to think I let that treacherous woman, Mrs. Hardwick, lead me so quietly into a snare.  Aunt Rachel was about right when she said I wasn’t fit to come alone.  I hope she’ll never find out this adventure of mine; I never should hear the last of it.”