One afternoon when the ground was damp and Marjorie had a cold, Miss Barrows told them they might play in the garret. It happened to be her reception day, and up there, she thought, with the door closed they might make all the noise they pleased without disturbing the elegant repose of her drawing room.
Little Tom who as usual was hanging around, was graciously invited in, and the three ran off in high spirits.
“I don’t think there is anything there they can possibly hurt,” Aunt Charlotte said to herself.
Now in this long, low room, near the front windows was an old four post bedstead, upon which was a large feather bed. It had not been in use for a long time, and Aunt Charlotte was planning to make some pillows out of it. Nothing could have offered a more alluring playground than this mountainous bed; to climb upon the cedar chest which stood near, and take a flying leap into the middle of it, was tremendous fun.
The excitement was growing when Marjorie made a discovery. “Caro!” she cried, “the feathers are coming out!”
Sure enough on one side of the mattress there was a long rip, and from it the feathers were beginning to fly.
“It is like a snowstorm,” exclaimed Caro, taking her turn at jumping.
“Goody, a snowstorm! Let’s pretend it’s snowing,” Marjorie cried, and Tom clapped his hands and danced with joy at the idea.
Such active exercise was heating, so they put up the windows and then the fun grew fast and furious. Around and around they went; up on the chest, over on the bed, down on the floor, screaming and laughing, while the feathers flew in all directions, and the bed grew smaller and smaller.
Trolley who looked in through the half open door to see what was going on, ran down stairs in disgust, and sitting on the bottom step of the last flight sneezed and sneezed till Miss Barrows who was entertaining Mrs. Rice in the parlor couldn’t help wondering aloud what was the matter with that cat!