glass. They even ventured part way up the creaky attic stairs, but
it was too dark to enter that mysterious region.

"I hear the drip of water," she whispered, her finger on her lips.

"It's the tank," said Orde.

"And has it a Dark Place behind it?" she begged.

"That's just what it has," said he.

"And--tell me--are there real hair trunks with brass knobs on 'em?"

"Yes, mother has two or three."

"O-o-h!" she breathed softly. "Don't tell me what's in them. I
want to believe in brocades and sashes. Do you know," she looked at
him soberly, "I never had any dark places behind the tank, nor
mysterious trunks, when I was a child."

"You might begin now," suggested Orde.

"Do you mean to insinuate I haven't grown up?" she mocked. "Thank
you! Look OUT!" she cried suddenly, "the Boojum will catch us," and
picking up her skirts she fairly flew down the narrow stairs. Orde
could hear the light swish of her draperies down the hall, and then
the pat of her feet on the stair carpet of the lower flight.

He followed rather dreamily. A glance into the sitting-room showed
the group gathered close around the fire listening to Lem Collin's