“Oh, there is really, girls,” panted Nora. “Come quick! There is someone—dying in our—attic!”
“Dying?”
“I was up there—getting these things, and I—heard the awfulest moans——”
“Maybe it was Cap,” suggested Treble. Her eyes had not wandered from the surprising spectacle.
“Oh, no, he was outside,” said Nora, “and no one is home, not even Vita. Oh, please do come! I know someone is in agony,” and her voice trailed off into agony of her own.
“I’ll lead,” volunteered Thistle. “Come along, every one. Alma, you can take care of your—prince,” she could not resist injecting.
“Oh Alma,” sighed Nora. “I was planning to come to explain to you——”
“You don’t need to,” and a most affectionate and all encompassing look went from Alma to Nora. “I know all—about it now, and you are my prince, just the same.”
“Come along, you two lovers,” ordered Thistle the leader. “You had a ‘crush’ on Nora from the first, Alma. Now we all know why. Fall in there, Betta. No need to wait for guns——”
“I am not going without some weapon of defense,” declared Betta. “Nora knows her own attic, and she knows when someone is moaning. It may be a lunatic. There is always an asylum in a pretty place like this.”