The roof was of slate, and every single slate knew its place and kept it.

But, as so often happens, in looking for one thing he found another.

There was a trap-door leading down into the house.
And that trap-door was not fastened.
'Stop snivelling and come here, Jane,' he cried, encouragingly.

'Lend a hand to heave this up.

If we can get into the house, we might sneak down without meeting any one, with luck.