“Better than the fire-escape?” laughed the Guide.
“Better than the roof of a porch! And the funny thing about it is that the janitor of our building came up himself and said: ‘Miss Hilda, I feel sorry for you these hot nights, so you can sleep on the roof if you like!’
“Miss Miller, I never breathed a word to him about a tent, but he took me up and showed me where I could pitch a small tent between the great water-tank and the square box-like place where the roof-steps come up. A stone parapet almost three feet high runs all around the roof, you know, so there isn’t any danger of my falling off even if I walked in my sleep—which I never do.”
“I think that is fine for you, Hilda,” smiled Miss Miller, but she did not add that she had spoken secretly to the janitor that morning on her way to school.
“Mother has no objections to this if I will take Paul up with me. Paul thinks the plan a dandy one so he will be benefited too. I will place a screen about his cot or mine so that I will have privacy.”
“Or you could hang a curtain from a ring at one side of the tent to one at the opposite side. Then Paul could pull or push the muslin to suit himself, and it would not be ruined by rain,” suggested Miss Miller.
“I’m so glad that we live on the top floor of the house, ’cause it will be an easy matter to run up or down the short flight of stairs going to the roof. When I told mother about it she laughed and said: ‘You always used to grumble about climbing the four flights from the street, but I know how much pleasanter it is to be on top instead of under a noisy family in a flat.’”
“Your mother is quite right, and then the air is always better the higher one goes, and the rents are lower—the last not a mean consideration, either,” added the Guide.
Jane Hubert came in just then, and her smile signified good news. “Father never made the slightest objection to the camp idea but he has a still better one for me. He says he will erect Jack’s tent on the lawn under a group of birches that grow near the high brick wall at the back of our place.”
Then Nita came in. “Miracles will never cease, Miss Miller. Not only is Mama quite reconciled to my camping on the first-story extension roof where there is a concrete flooring and a parapet to three sides, but she is taking an active part in rearranging my bed-room so that I can step in and out of the French windows without falling over cushioned window-seats and gim-cracks standing about.”