The House of Astonishment
It was indeed a house of astonishment. The day before the last day of spring vacation, Mr. Caduggan, who had been having what he called "a jawb" getting the attic door open, finally did get it open and mounted the steep stairs beyond it carefully, testing the treads.
A few minutes after he had reached the top he came licketty-splitting down again, with Popeye at his heels in a three-legged run.
"Mrs. Blake, Mrs. Blake!" shouted Mr. Caduggan. "Oh, Mrs. Bla-ake!"
Portia was startled from her room by his intemperate bellows, and Mr. Caduggan drew up short at sight of her.
"Where's your mama, Portia?"
"In the pantry looking over the china, I think," Portia said. "Why? What is it? What's the matter?"
But Mr. Caduggan was already on his way down the next flight of stairs, with Popeye just behind him, barking impulsively. Portia followed, of course, and Julian joined them in the front hall.
"What goes? Is the house afire?"
"I don't know," Portia said. "I guess not or he'd say so."