“Is that you, Cora?” she called.
“Yes. It’s nothing. I’m going to get a drink, Bess. I am,” she added in a whisper to Belle, to justify herself.
“Bring me one,” begged Bess, sleepily.
It was evident that the noise which had alarmed—or if not alarmed, had awakened—Belle, had not disturbed her sister. For as Belle and Cora went toward the door they could both hear and feel the vibration more plainly now.
“What can it be?” asked Belle. “Some one trying to get in?”
“Nonsense!” chided Cora.
“But it sounds like raising a sticking window. Are you going to call Mr. Floyd?”
“I wish he weren’t so far off,” said Cora, pausing undeterminedly in the middle of the room. “He might just as well be in another building as where he is. I don’t like going through that connecting passage. And he and his wife both sleep soundly. She told me so.”
“We ought to have some means of summoning them—or the boys,” continued Belle.
“We can always scream,” Cora remarked.