the well.

He was in a narrow space, closed in with walls much higher than his
head, out of which he saw no way but that by which he had come
in--across the fearful well, that seemed, so dark was its water, to go
down and down for ever.

He felt in his pocket. If then he had found baby's bottle broken, I
doubt if Clare would ever have got out of the place, except by the
door into the next world. What little strength he had was nearly gone,
and I think it would then have gone quite. But the bottle was safe and
his courage came back.

He examined his position, and presently saw that the narrowness of his
threatened prison would make it no prison at all. He found that, by
leaning his back against one wall, pushing his feet against the
opposite wall, and making of the third wall a rack for his shoulder,
he could worm himself slowly up. It was a task for a strong man, and
Clare, though strong for his years, was not at that moment strong. But
there was the baby waiting, and here was her milk! He fell to, and,
with an agony of exertion, wriggled himself at last to the top--so
exhausted that he all but fell over on the other side. He pulled
himself together, and dropped at once into, the garden. Happier boy
than Clare was not in all England then. Hunger, wet, incipient
nakedness, for he had torn his clothes badly, were nowhere. Baby was
within his reach, and the milk within baby's!

He ran, dripping like a spaniel, to find her, and shot up the stair to
the room that held his treasure. To his joy he found both Tommy and
the baby fast asleep, Tommy tired out with the weary tramping of the