TRANSPLANTED
Nora was too surprised now to even think coherently. That Vita should be
up in her attic!
"Down, down Cap!" the housekeeper was ordering, while the dog, evidently
realizing something very unusual was occurring, added his part to the
confusion.
"Vita!" called Nora in a subdued voice, "Come over this way!"
"Hush! Don't wake the folks," cautioned the maid, now beside Nora's bed.
"I--just--come to--shut the window----"
"Oh, is there a window over there?"
"A little one," evaded Vita. "But why do you come up to this dirty
place?"
"It isn't dirty, and I like attics." Nora's was confident now and her
voice betrayed some resentment.
"You like it?" Vita sniffed so hard the candle almost choked to death.
"Why yes; why shouldn't I? I'm romantic you know."
"Roman----"
"Oh, you don't understand. I'm sort of booky, like a story, you know,"
explained Nora loftily. "I love things that are like the parts of a
story."
It was difficult to make certain that this lusty Italian understood; but
even in the dim light, her dark eyes seemed kind and full of smiling
glints, and her ruddy cheeks dimpled all over like a big tufted pin
cushion, giving Nora a feeling of security mingled with curiosity.
Why did Vita come up? There was no draft from any window. Was there even
a window?
"I tell you, baby," the woman began, as if answering Nora's silent
questions, "you be a very good little girl and go down to the pretty
sun-gold room; yes?"
The big warm arm was cuddling the little form in the bed, and Cap was so
happy he put both paws gingerly on the coverlet, snapping a very short
bark of a question right into Nora's face.
"Quiet, boy!" whispered Nora. "We are having a lovely party but we must
not wake our neighbors."
The big shaggy head burrowed down into the covers, and Nora felt like a
little queen on a throne with her servants bowing at her feet.
"Go on, Vita," she ordered grandly.
"I tell you a nice little story, then you go downstairs on tippy toes,
yes?"
"But Vita dear, I did so want to stay up here," pouted Nora.
"It is no good up here. All crazy like, and make you scared--awful."
This was said in a very positive tone.
"Why? What should I be afraid of? I slept alone at boarding school and
the winds made dreadful noises sometimes." protested Nora.
"Never mind. You be Vita's good baby and Vita give you nice--very good
cake tomorrow," coaxed the woman, who now seemed anxious to leave the
attic herself. She stirred uneasily.
"Well," sighed Nora, "I suppose I can't have any peace if I don't." She
threw down the coverlet. "But see, my little clock says eleven, and I
don't want to disturb anyone on my very first night. You go down
whatever way you came up, Vita; and I'll creep down the front way."
The woman's relief was so evident Nora scarcely knew whether to be
grateful or suspicious.
"Now everything be all right," whispered Vita happily, "and you sleep
just like the angel. Here Cap, you go very still," and she patted the
dog with a little shove that urged him toward the door. He understood,
evidently, for very quietly indeed he shuffled down, his four feet
softer than velvet slippers, as he carried his huge body down the
darkened stairway.
Nora first poked her head out to make sure the coast was clear, then
with a motion to Vita, who stood with candle in hand at the attic door,
she swept down the stairs and entered the yellow room, into which a soft
light from the hall fell in a welcoming path.
The bed covers were turned down--Vita must have been determined that
Nora should use that bed, and the window was properly opened, for the
soft breeze stirred the scrim curtains, and a wonderful woodland scent
stole into the room.
"It is much better down here," Nora was forced to admit as she snuggled
into the gold and blue coverlet. "I guess I was a nuisance to be so
obstinate."
A few minutes later a step in the hall glided to the electric light
button, and the click that followed turned off the light.
That must have been Ted, of course, and she must have known that Nora
was now safely tucked in the comfortable bed in the guest room.
"She was waiting for me too," mused Nora with a twinge of compunction.
"I do wonder why they made such a fuss about me staying in the attic?"
It was delicious to have every one anxious about her,--so short a time
ago no one but the Circle Angel at the Baily School seemed to care
whether she slept in her bed or out on the old, tattered hammock, that
Barbara wanted to make a tree climber out of; and now in this lovely
little bungalow, called The Nest, there were so many beds for her she
couldn't choose.
All the same, with the insistence of her fancies, visions of goblins and
goo-gees up in the attic pranced through her excited brain and made the
queerest pictures. She shivered as she remembered them.
"But Vita is nothing like a spirit worker," mused the child. "And she is
so kind and seems so fond of me." Then she had an inspiration.
"I have it," she all but exclaimed aloud. "Vita knows what is wrong and
is afraid I will find out. She is not frightened at it or she would not
go prowling around in the dark," continued the reasoning, "but she has a
secret and it is in that attic."
As if this conclusion settled all disturbing doubts, Nora humped over
once or twice and then gave in to the sleep her tired little self was so
sorely in need of.
It was the end of a long and too well filled day. She had left the
select school with all the instructions of the Misses Baily fairly
hissing in her ears. Then there was Barbara's fun making, in the way of
a train letter with all sorts of wild premonitions (they were funny but
somehow the train incidents took on the threats of danger Barbara had
outlined). But after all, no one had kidnapped her and here she
was--yes, asleep in the big fluffy bed in the lovely yellow room.
A whistle--Jerry's--brought her back. The daylight was streaming in
through that wonderful dew laden vine. And oh, the scent!
It was not flowers but woodlands. A bird chirped a polite good morning,
and without the usual eye rubbing Nora was sitting up straight and
silently thanking the Maker of good things for such a wonderful day.
For the first time in her life she felt that her clothes were not
appropriate, and it was some moments before she could decide just which
little gown to appear in. They really seemed out of place in that rugged
country--her laces and ribbons and fine fussings.
"I suppose the Girl Scouts do wear practical things," she reflected,
"but that horrid khaki!" The thought sent a little shudder through the
small, frail shoulders, and Nora, donning her Belgian blue, with brown
sandals and two colored socks, was ready, presently, to meet her newly
adopted relations. Cap was at her door when she opened it, and this,
more than anything else, sent a thrill of joy to her heart. Even a
wonderful big dog to welcome her when any dog would surely want to be
out doors with Jerry on such a morning!
"Come along, Bob," called a man's voice from the lower hall. "We can
hardly spare time to eat--there is so much to see this morning."
Nora was beside him as he continued:
"The kittens are tumbling out of their box, the puppies are fighting
over a feather, the chicks are testing their strength on a nice, lively,
fat little worm, and oh yes! the calf jumped over the moon--the moon
being Ted's home made gate," he finished, with that boyish laugh that
always made the house ring merrily.
Vita was just coming into the dining room with the muffins as Nora
passed her. There was no mistaking the sly wink--the big dark eyes
fairly sparkled glints as the maid signalled Nora not to say anything
about the attic episode. Nora smiled and nodded, and then the muffins
were placed before Mrs. Ted.
"Sleep well, dear?" asked that lady presently.
"Wonderfully," replied Nora, just a bit cautiously.
"I heard you come down stairs and was rather glad you changed your
mind," continued the hostess, while she poured Jerry's coffee. "It is
much pleasanter on the second floor."
For a moment Nora wondered whether this was being said to disguise the
real happening. Did Mrs. Manton know that Vita had gone up to rouse her?
"Maybe rain today," interrupted the maid, although the sun shone
brightly at the moment.
"Now Vittoria!" objected Jerry. "You ought to know better than to say
rain when I have to go away out to the back woods, and I want to have
some real work done today." He glanced over his shoulder at the
streaming sunlight. "You're a fraud, or else you are not awake yet," he
went on. "There is no more sign of rain than of snow."
"I agree with you for once, Jerry," chimed in Ted. "The grass was
knitted with cobwebs, the sun came up grey, and besides all that the
jelly jelled. Now Vita, you see you are completely left. It is not going
to rain."
Vita laughed good naturedly. "Then I say it is goin' to shine," she
added, and Nora now felt certain her talk had been made to interrupt the
comment on the night before.
Breakfast passed off in a gale of pleasantries. The home of the Mantons
seemed jollier every moment, to Nora.
"How about the woods?" asked Jerry, while they lingered over the coffee.
"I'm ready," replied Ted, "and I'm sure Nora will want to come."
"Oh yes," with a glance at her inadequate costume. "Will this dress be
all right?"
"If it's the strongest you have with you," replied Ted. "But we have
some very saucy briars and brush. We must see about a real woodsy outfit
for you." She paused a moment, then continued, "I am sure you will like
the Girl Scouts when you get to know more about them. I know a group of
the girls and to my thinking they are the real thing in girls."
Nora flushed slightly. One point she had made up her mind on. She was
not going to lose her identity by joining in with a group of girls who,
she imagined, just did as they were told, and apparently had no ideas of
their own. Nora had seen some of the Girl Scout literature and it had
not impressed her favorably. It was plain and practical, while she
longed for novelty.
"Well, Bob is going to be my scout, at any rate," chimed in Jerry, quick
to sense possible embarrassment. The shade of Nora's cheeks gave him his
cue. "We won't talk about the regular Scouts until--well, until later,"
he finished, in the foolish way he had of making a boy of himself. It
was rather foolish, but so jolly. He would wind up everything in just
the way Nora never expected, as if his words said themselves.
The visitor was conscious now of something unpleasant stealing in upon
her. Would Mrs. Manton oblige her to be different? Couldn't she dream
and play and fancy all the wonderful things she had been storing up for
so long? Wasn't this her dream vacation?
Nannie, that play mother of hers, _she_ knew would not want her to
change her peculiar characteristics.
This sort of reasoning flashed before her mind as the party prepared for
a day in the woods.
So the little girl in Belgian blue went along with the big man in his
knickers and brown blouse, and with the young woman in her service
uniform.
Nora made an odd little figure, but she was, as she had always been, a
picture of a girl.