We should have to piece it out from our bedding, rugs, and
garments, and moreover, we should have to do it after we were
shut in for the night, for every day the place was cleaned to
perfection by two of our guardians.
We had no shears, no knives, but Terry was resourceful.
"These Jennies have glass and china, you see. We'll break a glass
from the bathroom and use that. `Love will find out a way,'" he
hummed. "When we're all out of the window, we'll stand three-man
high and cut the rope as far up as we can reach, so as to have more
for the wall. I know just where I saw that bit of path below, and
there's a big tree there, too, or a vine or something--I saw the leaves."
It seemed a crazy risk to take, but this was, in a way, Terry's
expedition, and we were all tired of our imprisonment.
So we waited for full moon, retired early, and spent an anxious
hour or two in the unskilled manufacture of man-strong ropes.
To retire into the depths of the closet, muffle a glass in thick
cloth, and break it without noise was not difficult, and broken
glass will cut, though not as deftly as a pair of scissors.
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