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."

Jack's mortification was extreme. His self-love was severely wounded by
the thought t