Dora tucked the Chinese kitten under her cheek for comfort and tried not to look at the queer eye. She looked toward the table where the pretty lamp stood.
That direction wasn’t pleasant either. She saw another queer thing, a streak of light this time, which seemed in the middle of the air. It was a thin, short streak, much nearer the folding-bed than the eye on the wall.
Dora hid her face in her pillow and tried to think what these queer things might be, but the longer she thought, the worse they seemed. She turned her head, and there was the round bright eye on the wall. She looked toward the table, and there was the streak of light in a place where no streak ought to be.
Dora sat up in bed and saw a line of light under Miss Chandler’s door. That was a right and proper place for it to be. She got up and put her arm across her face so she should not see the queer eye as she passed. She knocked on the door.
It opened instantly and when Miss Chandler saw Dora, she took her in her arms. “Why, honey, what is the matter?” she asked. “Can’t you go to sleep?”
For a minute Dora did not say anything. She was contented just to feel loving arms about her.
“There is a very queer thing in that room, Aunt Margaret,” she said at last, her head on Miss Chandler’s shoulder. “I don’t like it at all and I don’t think it ought to be there.”
“What is it, darling?” asked Miss Chandler.
“It is a round bright eye on the wall,” explained Dora. “It looks at me in the dark. And by the table is a little shiny streak.”