before the certain hour the next morning.

Now the Mayor and the Chinese Ambassador had staid rather longer than
they should have. They had been so interested in the school that they
had not noticed how the time was going, and the Patchwork Woman had
been so taken up with a very intricate new pattern that she failed to
remind them, as was her custom.

So it happened that while the Mayor got through the iron door safely,
just as the Chinese Ambassador was following it suddenly swung to, and
shut in his braided queue at a very high point.

[Illustration: JULIA ENTERTAINS THE AMBASSADOR THROUGH THE KEYHOLE.]

Then there was the Ambassador on one side of the door, and his queue
on the other, and the door could not possibly be opened before
morning. Here was a terrible dilemma! What was to be done? There stood
the children, their patchwork in their hands, staring, open-mouthed,
at the queue dangling through the door, and the Patchwork Woman pale
with dismay, in their midst, on one side of the door, and on the other
side was the terror-stricken Mayor, and the poor Chinese Ambassador.

"Can't anything be done?" shouted the Mayor through the keyhole--there
was a very large keyhole.

"No," the Patchwork Woman said. "The door won't open till six o'clock
to-morrow morning."

"Oh, try!" groaned the Mayor. "Say the formula."