Little Nora fairly trembled with expectation. What would the night bring? She was determined to sleep in that attic under the big, dark rafters. As a matter of fact Nora was fascinated with fear; just as one may stop on a river bridge and feel like jumping in.
“Just pound on the floor, Kitten, if you get scared. We’ll run up and get you, quickly enough,” declared Jerry, secretly proud of Nora’s pluck.
“But really, dear,” objected Mrs. Ted, “I would rather you would——”
“Now Ted, you know well enough you had a heap of fun the night you and Jettie slept in the haunted house. Never mind the trouble you made in the neighborhood, you had your fun,” and he clapped his brown hands on his knee and laughed, until Cap, the big dog, rolled over in his sleep and grunted inquiringly.
This reminder caused Ted to smile indulgently, and when Nora twined her warm little arms around the same Teddie’s neck, it seemed to the adopted mother she could not deny her anything—she might sleep on the roof if the whim occurred to her just then.
While the family, which included Vita and the big tiger cat, besides Cap and a cage of newly adopted birds, were either talking or listening to talk, Vita, from the kitchen door, was acting rather queerly. She would shuffle back and forth, start to speak and hesitate, cough, spill pans and make other unusual noises, until Ted called out:
“What’s the matter, Vita? You seem to be having a lot of trouble.”
“Not trouble, just worry,” replied the elderly servant in good English, but strongly accented.
“Worry?” repeated Jerry. “Why Vita, you never worry. What’s wrong? Come in and tell us about it.”
At this invitation Vita showed herself in the comfortable sitting room, towel in hand and head wagging.