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MRS. CRASHAW,
abandoning Miss Lawton to the ministrations of young Mr. Bemis, while she kneels beside Mrs. Curwen. and chafes her hand: “Oh, poor thing! I knew she was overwrought by the way she was keeping up. Give her air, Mr. Miller. Open a–Oh, there isn’t any window!”

MILLER,
dropping on his knees, and fanning Mrs. Curwen: “There! there! Wake up, Mrs. Curwen. I didn’t mean to scold you for joking. I didn’t, indeed. I–I–I don’t know what the deuce I’m up to.” He gathers Mrs. Curwen’s inanimate form in his arms, and fans her face where it lies on his shoulder. “I don’t know what my wife would say if” –

MRS. CRASHAW.
“She would say that you were doing your duty.”

MILLER,
a little consoled: “Oh, do you think so? Well, perhaps.”

YOUNG MR. BEMIS.
“Do you feel faint at all, Miss Lawton?”

MISS LAWTON.
“No, I think not. No, not if you say it’s safe.”

YOUNG MR. BEMIS.
“Oh, I’m sure it is!”

MISS LAWTON,
renewing her hold upon his hand: “Well, then! Perhaps I hurt you?”

YOUNG MR. BEMIS.
“No, no! You couldn’t!’

MISS LAWTON.
“How kind you are!”

MRS. CURWEN,
opening her eyes: “Where” –

MILLER,
rapidly transferring her to Mrs. Crashaw: “Still in the elevator, Mrs. Curwen.” Rising to his feet: “Something must be done. Perhaps we HAD better unite in a cry. It’s ridiculous, of course. But it’s the only thing we can do. Now, then! Hello!”

MISS LAWTON.
“Papa!”

MRS. CRASHAW.
“Agne-e-e-s!”

MRS. CURWEN,
faintly: “Walter!”

THE ELEVATOR BOY.
“Say!”

MILLER.
“Oh, that won’t do. All join in ‘Hello!'”

ALL.
“Hello!”

MILLER.
“Once more!”

ALL.
“Hello!”

MILLER.
“ONCE more!”

ALL.
“Hello!”

MILLER.
“Now wait a while.” After an interval: “No, nobody coming.” He takes out his watch. “We must repeat this cry at intervals of a half-minute. Now, then!” They all join in the cry, repeating it as MR. MILLER makes the signal with his lifted hand.

MISS LAWTON.
“Oh, it’s no use!”

MRS. CRASHAW.
“They don’t hear.”

MRS. CURWEN.
“They WON’T hear.”

MILLER.
“Now, then, three times!”

ALL.
“Hello! hello! hello!”

III
.

[ROBERTS appears at the outer door of his apartment on the fifth floor. It opens upon a spacious landing, to which a wide staircase ascends at one side. At the other is seen the grated door to the shaft of the elevator. He peers about on all sides, and listens for a moment before he speaks.]

ROBERTS.
“Hello yourself.”

MILLER,
invisibly from the shaft: “Is that you, Roberts?”

ROBERTS.
“Yes; where in the world are you?”

MILLER.
“In the elevator.”

MRS. CRASHAW.
“We’re ALL here, Edward.”

ROBERTS.
“What! You, Aunt Mary!”

MRS. CRASHAW.
“Yes. Didn’t I say so?”

ROBERTS.
“Why don’t you come up?”

MILLER.
“We can’t. The elevator has got stuck somehow.”

ROBERTS.
“Got stuck? Bless my soul! How did it happen? How long have you been there?”

MRS. CURWEN.
“Since the world began!”

MILLER.
“What’s the use asking how it happened? We don’t know, and we don’t care. What we want to do is to get out.”

ROBERTS.
“Yes, yes! Be careful!” He rises from his frog-like posture at the grating, and walks the landing in agitation. “Just hold on a minute!”