“Down, down Cap!” the housekeeper was ordering, while the dog, evidently realizing something very unusual was occurring, added his part to the confusion.
“Vita!” called Nora in a subdued voice, “Come over this way!”
“Hush! Don’t wake the folks,” cautioned the maid, now beside Nora’s bed. “I—just—come to—shut the window——”
“Oh, is there a window over there?”
“A little one,” evaded Vita. “But why do you come up to this dirty place?”
“It isn’t dirty, and I like attics.” Nora’s was confident now and her voice betrayed some resentment.
“You like it?” Vita sniffed so hard the candle almost choked to death.
“Why yes; why shouldn’t I? I’m romantic you know.”
“Roman——”
“Oh, you don’t understand. I’m sort of booky, like a story, you know,” explained Nora loftily. “I love things that are like the parts of a story.”