“It’s like this,” she began, “that attic——”
“Oh, that’s it, is it? Now don’t you go worrying about the attic,” interrupted Jerry. “If our little girl wants to dream one dream out up there, why shouldn’t she? I like her spirit.”
“But when—there’s the pretty room——”
“Why Vita!” It was Ted who interrupted this time. “I’m surprised that you should interfere!”
“Now, you know, dear, Vita means no harm,” Jerry broke in, always eager to smooth things out. “But there really doesn’t seem any cause for all this anxiety.”
“I would say, please,” ventured the housekeeper, “a little girl might get scared up in that black garret,” and she made her dark eyes glare, plainly with the intent of frightening Nora out of her plans.
“Then it will be over, anyhow,” spoke up the child, “and I might as well get scared tonight as any other night,” she concluded loftily.
“Right-o!” sang out Jerry. “I can tell sure thing, Kitten, that you and I are going to have a heap of fun in these diggings. When you get through with one scare we’ll invent another, and in that way we’ll be able to keep things interesting.”
Vita threw back her head, rolled her eyes again and made a queer sort of gurgle. Then she swished her dish towel in the air with such a jerk it snapped like a whip, and realizing further argument would be useless, she turned back into her own quarters.
As she went out, man and wife exchanged questioning glances. They plainly asked each other why their maid should be so concerned, but with Nora present it was unwise to put the query into words, so it remained unanswered.