"Professor! Professor!" Cockney's voice grew louder and more peremptory with each call.
Isabel Bulkeley's head appeared in her window.
"Did you want my brother, Mr. Aikens?"
"I'm not calling him at this hour of the night for vocal exercise," replied Cockney.
"He's such a sound sleeper——"
"Then you'd better waken him."
"Is anything the matter? I'll go and call him."
They heard her bedroom door open, then a knock on her brother's, and the turning of the knob.
"Amos! Amos! Don't be frightened. It's only Isabel."
The bed creaked with sudden violence.