"No, not too much noise," coaxed the big woman, who in her night robe looked like a masquerade figure. "What do you want I should get you?"

"Nothing. I don't want anything but for you to tell me who is up in that attic!" demanded Nora sharply.

"Me--Vittoria, is up attic."

"Who was with you?"

"Cap."

"Where is he now?"

"He go down--back way."

"Now Vita--" Nora stopped. She was baffled. This woman could confuse her so and then walk off demurely, just as she had done that other night.

Finally Nora began again:

"All right, Vita, but you just listen." She was shaking a small finger toward the face with the black flashing eyes. "If you don't tell me all about your secret I shall tell Uncle Jerry. Now do you understand?"

"Secret? What is 'secret'?"

"The thing up in the attic is a secret," persisted Nora, although she feared her voice might disturb the others now.

"That thing big Cap. He always at night sniff so much," said Vita. "Now, I go to bed," she spoke this very emphatically. "I go to bed and you go to sleep."

"All right, go," ordered Nora. "And don't you dare go up in that attic again tonight. I was just having the most----"

But her audience had vanished and the house was empty, so to speak, so why orate or harangue?

All sleep and its delightful attributes had flown. Nora was so wide awake she felt she would never sleep again, and worse still, she was angry. What did that old Vita mean by her attic tricks? If it were she who was up there why did she moan? And if it were something else why did the woman try to conceal it?

"Now, I have a Scout duty," Nora promised herself. "I must fathom that mystery and protect Cousin Theodora and Cousin Gerald from that unscrupulous woman." Visions of crimes hidden in the attic, memory of her own incarceration there when the trap door, as she now regarded the door with the spring lock snapped shut, filtered through her excited brain, and when she remembered how she had almost died up there, and how it might have been years before her skeleton would have been discovered, just as so many others had fared on secret attic trips, it did seem to Nora that she should arise at once and immediately start her investigations. Humor and tragedy hopelessly mixed.

"But it's so late," she figured out, "and would it be fair to wake Cousin Ted when she is so tired and after her taking me to that beautiful picture?"

Convincing herself that this was why she did not immediately begin her brave Scout work, she once more attempted to quiet her nerves by thinking of all the sheep Miss Baily had recommended to skip over fences and lull one to sleep.

But sleep was far out of the reach of frisky sheep, and Nora lay there thinking of so many things, her head threatened to ache and a miserable day promised to dawn upon her if she did not soon succ.u.mb.

"Perhaps I wronged poor Vita. There may not have been anything wicked in the attic after all," she soothed herself. "Why couldn't she go up there if she wanted to? And maybe she stubbed her toe."

It was not very consoling but the best Nora could work up in the way of consolation. One thing certain, Vita was honorable. She was a trusted servant, and in the short time Nora had been at the Nest, many small favors, peculiar to good cooks, had come Nora's way through Vita's intervention.

Such happy thoughts finally dispelled the other unfriendly mental visitors, and when Vita stole past the door again and looked in through the darkness, all she heard was the even breathing of little Nora Blair, who might or might not have been dreaming of horrible attic noises.

The day brings wisdom, and when Nora again dressed in the borrowed khaki suit (she had suddenly taken a dislike to her own fancy dresses), the glorious sunshine of the bright summer morning mocked the terrors of the night.

A step in the hall. "I bring your fruit," said Vita kindly through the open door; and there she stood with a small dish of such delicious berries to be eaten off stems by hand--surely Nora had wronged this kind, tender-hearted foreigner.

Nora was somewhat conscience stricken as she accepted the peace offering. "Oh, thank you, Vita," she exclaimed. "I was just coming down."

"But the Jerries are out early and you no need hurry," explained Vita.

"I make nice breakfast when you come."

"Cousin Ted gone out?" asked Nora.

"Yes, she say you stay home, not go after them, they must 'bob swamp.'"

"Bob swamp? Oh, you mean use the plumb-bob in the swamp. I understand, Vita." It was really remarkable how well both understood today and how dense both had been last night. "Very well, I'll eat my fruit here by the window, and later try your lovely biscuits," said Nora, with a smile rarely used outside the family.

The housemaid shuffled off. Looking after her, Nora wondered.

"I do believe she is trying to keep on good terms with me for something--something queer," she decided. "Certainly she is afraid I will tell Cousin Ted about the attic business." She paused with a big red strawberry half way to her lips. "Well, I have a secret, anyhow,"

she decided, "and I like Alma, she makes me think of myself--she is sort of shy and sensitive. Perhaps I shall make her my confidante."

Of all the Scouts Alma seemed most congenial, and having a real secret was the first definite step in Nora's summer career. But are secrets wise and are they safe to carry around in so big and open a place as Rocky Ledge?

CHAPTER XV

WAIF OF THE WILDWOODS

It was so much better than dreams. Not only did Nora feel the importance of having a real secret, but she also realized that the same circ.u.mstance had actually made Vita her abject slave. Not a wish was expressed by the visitor in Vita's presence but the maid would, if it were possible at all, see to its fulfillment.

"I believe I'll tell Alma," Nora decided one morning after a visit and return to and from Camp Chickadee. Almost daily she made those trips and the Scouts had become such friends with her she was now regarded quite as one of their number.

Expecting to join formally as soon as the other candidates of Rocky Ledge were ready and the Counsellor should come down from the city, Nora studied her manual and prepared for the honor. In the meantime she was privileged to enjoy many of the Scout activities.

But "the secret" was really more engrossing just now. It provided her with a personal importance--what girl does not enjoy the possession of a knowledge others have not and everyone would love to have?

It was thrilling. Alma, the Tenderfoot Scout, who from the first had espoused Nora's cause and even confided in her the real story of the woodland prince, met her daily at a wonderful rendezvous, and there the two girls, away from teasing companions, enjoyed confidences and built air castles.

"I'll tell her today," the resolve was repeated as Nora started out.

She arrived first, and while waiting had a race with Cap all the way to the Three Oaks and back again.

"Dogs have to run faster," explained Nora breathlessly, when Cap won by more than he needed to establish his claim. "If you could not run faster than human beings, Cap, you could never have been made a Red Cross messenger, as you were in the awful war."

The arrival of Alma cut short the encomium. Salutations were brief for both were eager to "tell each other a lot of things."

"Alma, do you think you could keep a secret?" The question was so trite and time worn Alma smiled before answering in the affirmative.

"Because," continued Nora, "this is the biggest secret I have ever had, and Barbara and I have had a great many."

"I have to have secrets," returned Alma, "because none of the girls seem to understand me. They tease, you know, they almost made me homesick one night; they kept teasing and teasing about the prince; and Miss Beckwith had a hard time to make me stop crying."