“Oh, is there?” cried Nora. “I would be afraid to face a—lunatic in that big, dark, attic——”
“I should think you would, lunatic or just plain, human being,” agreed Laddie. “You look delectable enough for anyone to just eat you up——”
“Can’t you girls realize this is an emergency, not a debate?” snapped Thistle. “We don’t suppose Nora is dying of fright just for fun. Betta, run over and tell Becky.”
“Oh, don’t let’s have her along,” interrupted Treble, bent on making the most of the adventure. “You know she would have to do something we wouldn’t.”
“Right,” agreed Wyn. “Come along Scouts! ‘Jeuty’ calls us.”
They had been “coming along” all the time. These expressions merely gave vent to pent up energy.
Nora, although thoroughly frightened, was thankful that the dark helped hide her dismay. Alma had her arm, and Alma was thinking in terms of “prince,” even the pretender was conscious of that.
The girls giggled and talked, as they always did, and as Betta took time to remark, “they would be apt to do it at their own funerals.” There was no suppressing Wyn, and Treble fell but a peg below in volubility.
“Look out there!” called Thistle.
Everyone halted.