"But—who is it?" inquired Peter, with wonder in his eyes.
"Ah, my dear, sure and don't be asking me!" sobbed the old woman.
CHAPTER VII
In spite of all the mysteries, however, and there certainly seemed to be a good many, the boys slept like tops in their attic-room that night. Perhaps it was as well "for their brains' sake," as Peter remarked, for they woke next morning to yet another mysterious affair.
This time Jan had a story to tell, a story of noise. "A most peculiar noise, from the wall I think it was, or from the floor, Brownie, but I couldn't make out," she announced at breakfast-time. "Were you walking about in the night?"
"No, indeed, my dear," said the old woman.
"And you needn't ask us, for we didn't move all night," Peter assured her. "After all, there's something to be said for a jolly comfortable feather-bed after a week's outside camping. Though, of course, I'd rather sleep out of doors any day (or night, of course, I mean) than in a house."
"Well, I don't know what my noise was then," said Jan; "I was hoping it was one of you. I am sure I was awake a whole hour listening to it and wondering. Like a banging and a tinging it sounded."
"Ting! ting! d'you mean? Why! perhaps it's like my noise," broke in Peter again, staring, "like the noise I heard when we were sleeping in camp."