It was not very consoling but the best Nora could work up in the way of consolation. One thing certain, Vita was honorable. She was a trusted servant, and in the short time Nora had been at the Nest, many small favors, peculiar to good cooks, had come Nora’s way through Vita’s intervention.
Such happy thoughts finally dispelled the other unfriendly mental visitors, and when Vita stole past the door again and looked in through the darkness, all she heard was the even breathing of little Nora Blair, who might or might not have been dreaming of horrible attic noises.
The day brings wisdom, and when Nora again dressed in the borrowed khaki suit (she had suddenly taken a dislike to her own fancy dresses), the glorious sunshine of the bright summer morning mocked the terrors of the night.
A step in the hall. “I bring your fruit,” said Vita kindly through the open door; and there she stood with a small dish of such delicious berries to be eaten off stems by hand—surely Nora had wronged this kind, tender-hearted foreigner.
Nora was somewhat conscience stricken as she accepted the peace offering. “Oh, thank you, Vita,” she exclaimed. “I was just coming down.”
“But the Jerries are out early and you no need hurry,” explained Vita. “I make nice breakfast when you come.”
“Cousin Ted gone out?” asked Nora.
“Yes, she say you stay home, not go after them, they must ‘bob swamp.’”
“Bob swamp? Oh, you mean use the plumb-bob in the swamp. I understand, Vita.” It was really remarkable how well both understood today and how dense both had been last night. “Very well, I’ll eat my fruit here by the window, and later try your lovely biscuits,” said Nora, with a smile rarely used outside the family.
The housemaid shuffled off. Looking after her, Nora wondered.