“It’s ghostly.” This from Jerry.
“That would be just perfect. Does the roof slant so it gives you the nightmare on your chest, you know? And does the moon sort of make faces in the windows?” Interest was overcoming timidity.
“That may be the trouble,” replied the man, with a chuckle. “But I’ll tell you, little girl. Suppose we take the yellow room until you have a chance to inspect thoroughly. You see your—er—Aunt Elizabeth has had it all planned and fixed up——”
“Oh yes. Do excuse me for being impolite. You see, I’ve been thinking about it so long. The school was lovely, and the teachers all very kind, but it was sort of a regular kindness, you know, and did not have any of my dreams coming true in it. Do you dream an awful lot here?”
“Day dreams or night dreams?” asked the man.
“Oh, wake-dreams, of course. The other kind don’t mean anything. Just stickers in your brain sort of pricking, you know. But the wake-dreams can come true, if you plague them long enough. I guess they get tired fighting you off and they have to give in and happen. What do you want to call me?” This was a sudden digression and marked with a complete flopping down of the talkative child.
“Your name is Nora, isn’t it?” replied the young woman who seemed rather glad to sit down herself. They were on the big square porch and rockers were plentiful.
“Yes, my name is Nora, and it’s pretty good, but hard to rhyme easily. Then I would rather have you call me the name you have always called your dream child.”
“Mine was Bob,” blurted the man, “but Bob wouldn’t exactly suit you.”
“Oh, yes it would,” she jumped up again and left the rocker swaying wildly. “Bob would be splendid for me. Would it suit you, Aunt Elizabeth? What was your pet name?”