waited politely. “That Jerry-boy is getting impatient.”

As the child fluttered off, her yellow ringlets dancing and her dainty little skirts swishing around the half tied ribbon sash, Mrs. Ted smiled and pondered:

“Another little blue-jay to love; but she will surely want to fly away in her sky of dreams, and I pity the tired wings when night comes,” sighed the potential mother.

CHAPTER III—A BROKEN DREAM

It was evening at the Nest, and the quiet settling down on the woodlands vibrated with a melody, at once silent and musical.

Little Nora fairly trembled with expectation. What would the night bring? She was determined to sleep in that attic under the big, dark rafters. As a matter of fact Nora was fascinated with fear; just as one may stop on a river bridge and feel like jumping in.

“Just pound on the floor, Kitten, if you get scared. We’ll run up and get you, quickly enough,” declared Jerry, secretly proud of Nora’s pluck.

“But really, dear,” objected Mrs. Ted, “I would rather you would——”

“Now Ted, you know well enough you had a heap of fun the night you and Jettie slept in the haunted house. Never mind the trouble you made in the neighborhood, you had your fun,” and he clapped his brown hands on his knee and laughed, until Cap, the big dog, rolled over in his sleep and grunted inquiringly.

This reminder caused Ted to smile indulgently, and when Nora twined her warm little arms around the same Teddie’s neck, it seemed to the adopted mother she could not deny her anything—she might sleep on the roof if the whim occurred to her just then.

While the family, which included Vita and the big tiger cat, besides Cap and a cage of newly adopted birds, were either talking or listening to talk, Vita, from the kitchen door, was acting rather queerly. She would shuffle back and forth, start to speak and hesitate, cough, spill pans and make other unusual noises, until Ted called out:

“What’s the matter, Vita? You seem to be having a lot of trouble.”

“Not trouble, just worry,” replied the elderly servant in good English, but strongly accented.

“Worry?” repeated Jerry. “Why Vita, you never worry. What’s wrong? Come in and tell us about it.”

At this invitation Vita showed herself in the comfortable sitting room, towel in hand and head wagging.

“It’s like this,” she began, “that attic——”

“Oh, that’s it, is it? Now don’t you go worrying about the attic,” interrupted Jerry. “If our little girl wants to dream one dream out up there, why shouldn’t she? I like her spirit.”

“But when—there’s the pretty room——”

“Why Vita!” It was Ted who interrupted this time. “I’m surprised that you should interfere!”

“Now, you know, dear, Vita means no harm,” Jerry broke in, always eager to smooth things out. “But there really doesn’t seem any cause for all this anxiety.”

“I would say, please,” ventured the housekeeper, “a little girl might get scared up in that black garret,” and she made her dark eyes glare, plainly with the intent of frightening Nora out of her plans.

“Then it will be over, anyhow,” spoke up the child, “and I might as well get scared tonight as any other night,” she concluded loftily.

“Right-o!” sang out Jerry. “I can tell sure thing, Kitten, that you and I are going to have a heap of fun in these diggings. When you get through with one scare we’ll invent another, and in that way we’ll be able to keep things interesting.”

Vita threw back her head, rolled her eyes again and made a queer sort of gurgle. Then she swished her dish towel in the air with such a jerk it snapped like a whip, and realizing further argument would be useless, she turned back into her own quarters.

As she went out, man and wife exchanged questioning glances. They plainly asked each other why their maid should be so concerned, but with Nora present it was unwise to put the query into words, so it remained unanswered.

Nothing but sheer pity prevented Mrs. Jerry Manton, better known as Ted, from bursting into delicious laughter at the sight of Nora in her boudoir finery, as, an hour later, she picked her way up into that attic.

Jerry kept discreetly at a distance, but he too saw the figure, so like the model of an old time master painting, as she climbed the stairs, unlighted candle in hand, with Cap at the little pink heels that just peeked out from under a very beautiful, dainty night-robe.

Her candle was not lighted—Cousin Ted, (the latest name given the hostess) would not permit the lighting, as she argued it was dangerous to carry the little flame so near to the flimsy robe: never-the-less, Nora wanted the candle, and she carried it along to complete the picture.

At the door Ted touched a button and the convenient big electric bulb, ordinarily used by Jerry when he went to the attic workroom, showered a welcome light over the dark rafters and the queer eerie, lofty quarters.

“Isn’t it wonderful!” said Nora, in a voice so shaky the wonder part seemed rather awful.

“If you get the least bit nervous, dear, you come right down to the yellow room,” cautioned Ted. “We will leave the hall lights on, and Cap wanders about all night. So if you hear him don’t be alarmed.”

“It would be nice——” Nora paused, then continued, “if Cap would sleep up here on this lovely landing. Couldn’t we give him a pillow?”

“I’m sure he wouldn’t stay long,” objected Ted. “Our Cap is a wonderful night watchman and has a regular beat to cover. He will be sure to visit you more than once before morning.” She was turning away reluctantly. The circumstances exacted full strength of her own courage—to leave that little wisp of a child up in the lonely attic just to satisfy a whim.

But Ted knew the only sure way to effect a cure for the fanciful nonsense was to let it burn out: it could never be successfully suppressed. Hence the decision and the attic quarters.

“Good night, cousin Ted,” said Nora bravely. “And don’t worry about me. I’m sure to sleep and dream beautifully in that nice, fresh bed.”

“It is fresh; I changed it all as Vita seemed so opposed to letting you come up here,” said Ted, thoughtfully. “But while Vita is very queer in some respects, she is loyal and faithful, always.”

Nora threw her small arms around Ted’s neck impulsively.

“If only Nannie liked housekeeping,” she sighed. “Couldn’t we have perfectly lovely times in a little house of our own?”

“Your mother is sure to change her ideas when she grows stronger,” replied the young woman, charitably. “Naomie has what is termed the artistic temperament. As a rule it is greatly and sadly in need of discipline.”

Nora sighed and pressed a loving pair of trembling lips on Mrs. Manton’s brown cheek.

“I’m so glad I found you, anyhow. And Cousin Jerry is just the very loveliest big jolly man! I’m sure I’m going to be very happy here,” she finished with an impressive sigh.

“I know you are, dear. We have more kinds of things to do in this big woodland! Just wait until you go out surveying with us!” Ted promised, “then you will see some of the wonders of the great outdoors. There’s Jerry’s whistle now. I must run away and get him his bread and milk. Would you believe that great, big baby has a bowl of milk and two cuts of home made bread every night? He says his mother always told her children a story when they took this extra meal, and he insists he would break up the family circle if he failed to take his nightly supply.”

“Break up the family? Do they come here?”

“Oh, bless you, no. Jerry just fancies the other two brothers in Canada