“She will never see it,” declared the little fellow. “She goes to rehearsal all day and sings all night. Tillie—she’s the girl—she likes me. She won’t mind mending it,” and he bunched together in his small hand the hole in the short coat.
“I’ll tell you,” interposed Ned, “they say dark haired people fetch good luck, and you are our first caller. Suppose we get Talent, and bring him up properly, kites and all. Then perhaps, when I get something to eat, you may show me how to fly a kite over the Hudson.”
“Bully!” exclaimed Raffle. “I’ll get him right away. If John—the janitor—catches him waiting with the kites—”
But he was gone with the rest of the sentence.
Ned slapped his knees in glee. Tavia stretched out full length, shoes and all, on the rose-colored divan, Dorothy shook with merry laughter, but Martha, the maid with the ruffled-up apron, turned to the kitchenette to hide her emotion.
“New York is certainly a busy place,” said Ned, finally. “We may get a wireless from home on the clothes line. Tavia, I warn you not to hang handkerchiefs on the roof. It’s tabooed, for—country girls.”
Tavia groaned in disagreement. The fact was she had made her way to the roof before she had explored her own and Dorothy’s rooms, and even Ned did not relish the idea of her sight-seeing from that dangerous height. But New York was actually fascinating Tavia. She would likely be looking for “bulls and bears” on Wall Street next, thought Ned.
“Aunty, we are going to have the nicest lunch,” interrupted Dorothy. “We all helped Martha; it was hard to find things, and get the right dishes, you know. I guess the last folks who had this apartment must have had a Chinese cook, for everything is put away backwards.”
“Yes, the pans were on the top shelves and the cups on the bottom,” Tavia agreed. “I took to the pans—I love to climb on those queer ladders that roll along!”
“Like silvery moonlight,” Ned helped out, “only the clouds won’t develop.”