A dread, a sort of feeling that something might happen in regard to that expensive outlay of goods left by the travelling salesman, seized Nancy. She crept to the top of the stairs to listen, but all she could hear was a man’s voice; his words were lost behind the closed doors.
She ventured down to the second landing. Her mother was chatting pleasantly with whoever the early visitor might be, and at the sound Nancy’s spirits rose.
“He’s no collector,” she decided, turning quickly back to her room and starting at once to dress. She must be ready early. All signs pointed to an early patronage, and although Ted had declared he would be up at daybreak, it was all right, Nancy concluded, for him to sleep until seven o’clock.
Her mother was calling in a subdued voice.
“Nancy, I’ll get breakfast now, as I hear you stirring,” she said. “I want to leave things ready for your lunch today, so I came down early.”
“All right, Mother,” Nancy replied over the balustrade. “I’ll be down soon. Who called?”
“Is Ted awake?” Mrs. Brandon was still restraining her voice.
“He was, but he isn’t,” half whispered Nancy. “Wait, I’ll run down and help, then come up and dress later—”
Curiosity was too much for Nancy’s patience, so she merely tucked her hair tidily into a cap, and in slippers and robe joined her mother who was preparing breakfast.
“Who was it?” she asked breathlessly.