“It’s the waterfall,” said Cora. “Don’t be a goose, Belle!”
“I’m not. It’s a noise. Can’t you hear it above the sound of the water?”
Cora listened more intently.
“Yes, I can,” she reluctantly confessed. “It’s like the rumbling of a wagon going past the house.”
“Yes,” agreed Belle in a whisper. “But it isn’t a wagon. There isn’t any out at this hour, and the noise is in this bungalow, not outside.”
Cora agreed to that, also. She snapped on the switch of her little portable light, so that it would glow without the necessity of holding her finger on the push-button, and then she slipped on her robe, and put her feet in slippers. Belle was similarly attired.
“What are you going to do?” asked Belle.
“Find that noise,” whispered Cora. “But don’t let’s wake up the others. It may be—nothing, and they’d only laugh.”
“It can’t be nothing,” insisted Belle. “There it sounds louder than ever.”
Together they went silently to the door of Cora’s room. But either their movements or the queer noise had awakened Bess in the adjoining apartment.