and toe exercise. “And what do you say, Ted, I mean Elizabeth,” he chuckled, “if we give——”

“Jerry, don’t talk nonsense,” interrupted the young woman not unkindly but with some decision. “I am sure she would rather have the pretty——”

“But, please, could I see the attic room?” came rather timidly the very thread of a voice from the little girl.

“It’s ghostly.” This from Jerry.

“That would be just perfect. Does the roof slant so it gives you the nightmare on your chest, you know? And does the moon sort of make faces in the windows?” Interest was overcoming timidity.

“That may be the trouble,” replied the man, with a chuckle. “But I’ll tell you, little girl. Suppose we take the yellow room until you have a chance to inspect thoroughly. You see your—er—Aunt Elizabeth has had it all planned and fixed up——”

“Oh yes. Do excuse me for being impolite. You see, I’ve been thinking about it so long. The school was lovely, and the teachers all very kind, but it was sort of a regular kindness, you know, and did not have any of my dreams coming true in it. Do you dream an awful lot here?”

“Day dreams or night dreams?” asked the man.

“Oh, wake-dreams, of course. The other kind don’t mean anything. Just stickers in your brain sort of pricking, you know. But the wake-dreams can come true, if you plague them long enough. I guess they get tired fighting you off and they have to give in and happen. What do you want to call me?” This was a sudden digression and marked with a complete flopping down of the talkative child.

“Your name is Nora, isn’t it?” replied the young woman who seemed rather glad to sit down herself. They were on the big square porch and rockers were plentiful.

“Yes, my name is Nora, and it’s pretty good, but hard to rhyme easily. Then I would rather have you call me the name you have always called your dream child.”

“Mine was Bob,” blurted the man, “but Bob wouldn’t exactly suit you.”

“Oh, yes it would,” she jumped up again and left the rocker swaying wildly. “Bob would be splendid for me. Would it suit you, Aunt Elizabeth? What was your pet name?”

“I think Nora too pretty to drop. Besides, don’t you really think a name is a part of one’s self and ought to be loved and respected?”

“That’s just it. I want to—that is, if you don’t mind, I want to be the self I planned, not this one I didn’t have anything to say about. It’s just like religion. When we grow up big as I am, we ought to be allowed to choose.” Her manner was even more babyish than her appearance.

“Big as I am!” Jerry repeated this to a rosebush.

As a matter of fact she was not much bigger than a child of eight years might be, but she claimed a few more birthdays and she looked about as substantial as a wind flower. Her eyes were blue, her hair light and fluffy, and she wore such a tiny white slip of a dress, socks and sandals and a white lace hat! Grown up? She looked just like an old-fashioned baby.

“Then, shall I be Bobbs?” asked Nora a moment later, with hope in her voice.

“Ye-e-s, and if—the auntie wants to soften it she can call you Babette,” ventured Jerry. “And now, if the christenings are over, suppose we go inside and freshen up. Come along Bob, you are going to be my helper now, aren’t you?” Jerry’s eyes twinkled with his voice. He was, plainly, enjoying himself.

“I’d love to help—especially with outdoor work,” replied the girl. “And you measure land, don’t you?” she asked.

“Yes, that’s about it. In other words I’m a surveyor,” explained Jerry.

“And Aunt Elizabeth helps. Isn’t that lovely? We won’t, any of us, have old pesky house work to think about. I haven’t ever dreamed a dream, not a single one, about housekeeping. Some one always does that for me, or I just don’t think about it at all and it’s all done beautifully,” boasted Nora. “I love your place. It’s so romantic,” she expanded her arms and fluffy little skirt to fill the big chair. “I feel, somehow, everything is going to come true now.” Relief toned this statement while she looked wistfully out of blue eyes, and any one might have easily guessed that something very dear was included in that word “everything.”

The young woman, who was threatened with being made over into an old Aunt Elizabeth with laces and cameos to boot, gazed intently at the small personality. She realized it was a personality, a little dreamer, a big romancer, and a very weird sample of the modern girl, self-trained.

He who was to become “Jim” on the spot, seemed tickled to death over it all, and kept snapping his brown eyes, first at the newly named Bobbs and then his life’s partner, until glints of fun-sparks charged the very air.

“It might be a good idea to put on tags for a day or two,” he suggested playfully. “I would hate to spoil the program by calling Elizabeth here just Ted.”

“Oh, do you think it will be hard? I didn’t mean to make trouble, and, if you say so, I’ll just put the dream back again on its peg and let it stay there. It really doesn’t have to come true right now. There are so many new things to talk about,” temporized Nora, considerately.

“I think it would be lots better to try things out for a little while under our own names,” suggested the young woman, eagerly. “And I have always loved the name Nora, so you see, my dream will be coming true, at any rate,” she smiled.

“Goody—goody! It’s all right, then. I’ll be Nora, and you’ll be Ted, that’s pretty: what does it mean?”

“Theodora,” answered the man promptly.

“Then it is prettier than the old-fashioned Elizabeth,” agreed the child. “Really, things are different when you think about them than what they are when—you run right into them, aren’t they?”

“Sure thing, especially water wagons and book agents,” joked Jerry.

“And Jerry is lovely, too, just as nice as Jim. I knew a lovely old tramp dog named Jerry.” Again the wistful blue eyes dreamed.

“That’s real nice,” added the owner of the popular name. “Was he—gentle?”

“As a lamb. I used to ride on his back!”

“And was he—er—handsome?”

“He had the loveliest ears, all little pleaty wrinkles, and such big, floppy feet——”

“All right, I’ll be content to be his namesake, only don’t expect me to howl when the phonograph plays. I can’t undertake to do that,” demurred the affable Jerry.

They all laughed a little at this protest, for Jerry Manton seemed good natured enough to “howl” if occasion demanded it. Even the moon might have inspired him “doggerly” so to speak.

Mrs. Manton picked up the little hand satchel that Nora kept at her side when the other baggage was being disposed of, and gently urged the little visitor into the Nest, there to settle that other question of attic or guest room.

The short bright curls bobbed up and down incredulously, as their surprised owner looked in on the yellow room, a moment later.

“Golden! Perfectly golden!” exclaimed the child. “But, of course, one could never get the nightmare in this lovely bird cage.” She stopped, apparently reasoning out bird cages, nightmares and ghostly attics. “And I have simply got to have a strange experience,” she scratched her heels together anxiously. “I just couldn’t give that up,” she decided.

“But you do think this is a pretty room?” asked the hostess, her own soft eyes embracing affectionately the golden space before them.

“Glorious!” declared Nora rapturously. “And I’m afraid it has been rather silly to get set on certain things without really knowing about them. Dreams are uncertain, after all.”

Jerry was just coming up the rustic stairs.

“But the attic is a real spook parlor,” he chimed in, “and