CHAPTER VI

A PRINCE IN HIDING

When Nora wrote to Barbara she drew word pictures of the beauties at Woodland Wilds. She shed a tear of real joy when writing about Cousin Jerry and Captain, and when she fondly recited the virtues of Cousin Ted she felt she put more in that one word "Motherly" than could otherwise have been conveyed.

It was in the writing of that letter that she took account of her actual self, for in wording it she had naturally summed up.

"I am not just sure whether I entirely suit or not," she told Barbara. "Sometimes I feel so different. Of course they all love me, even Vita the cook, and I love them fondly, but don't you know, Babs, you always told me I saw 'foohey' and you would not explain what it was to be that way? But I guess I am, whatever it is, for a lot of alterations have already been ordered," she wrote.

"My new outdoor clothes have arrived," the letter ran, "they are of brown cloth" (she avoided the use of the word khaki) "and they will stand a lot of hard wear. Cousin Jerry says we get them that color and so we won't scare the birds and other woodland creatures. They are supposed to think we are part of the landscape."

Nora then told of the attic, and its chest of treasures, and added she expected to try on a couple of outfits the very first day she was free from accompanying the surveying party.

All of which showed the visitor was "taking root," as Jerry would have said.

A long tramp out in a marshy territory was to be undertaken by the two veterans, Ted and Jerry, but because of the bad footing Nora was not asked to go along. This provided the very opportunity Nora had been waiting for, and hardly had the reliable old flivver "fluvved" away, then she hurried up to the attic in search of a costume.

"Come on, Cap," she whispered, eluding Vita, but unwilling to go up in the attic alone. She had not forgotten the suspicions of her first night.

Too glad to obey, Cap led the way, and presently Nora forgot even the "spook cabinet" in her interest over the open costume chest.

Things were mussed and musty, rumpled and wrinkled and crinkled; but what colors and what a lot of bright tinsel!

"Oh joy," she exclaimed, dragging from the tangles a real Fauntleroy costume. "I have always wanted to see how I would look dressed in this sort of outfit," she thought, for the black velvet "knickers," the little velvet jacket, and the lace blouse were all there, and yes, there was a wonderful, bright silk scarf to go around the waist.

The cap was prettiest of all, and it was resting on Nora's yellow curls before Cap could possibly make out what the whole proceedings meant. He stood over in his corner and blinked, but Nora insisted on having his opinion.

"Isn't it wonderful, Cap? And don't you like Nora in it?" she demanded. He gave one of his peculiar exclamations rather louder than she had expected, and to prevent the sounds from reaching Vita's ears, Nora put both arms around Cap's neck and hugged him into silence.

She was very much excited. Ever since her arrival at the Nest she had been planning a private masquerade, and now the time had come for her to indulge in it.

Fanciful dream child that she was, the character of little Lord Fauntleroy had always strongly appealed to her, and as for most girls the boy's costume had a peculiar charm for her heroic ventures into the world of make-believe.

"We'll take them down stairs," she told Cap. "We can dress much more comfortably in my room."

Poking her head out to make sure Vita was not around, she tucked the velvets and laces into her arms and hurried to the next floor. Seldom had she locked the hall door, but she did so now, dismissing Cap peremptorily, for there was no need of his protection on the second floor.

"I suppose it's too big," she reasoned, when the little knickers were pulled up as high as the button and button hole line. Yes, it was big, this costume had been worn by a gay lady at a big country club dance, and little Nora was scarcely a sample of the personality for which the jaunty outfit had been created.

But mere size did not worry her. It was effect that she craved. The lacy blouse fell into place quite naturally, and it did look boyish, while the overblouse of black velvet completed the Fauntleroy picture.

"If the buckles would only stay buckled," she sighed, trying for the third time to fasten the knee straps and keep them that way. It was not pretty at all to have them slink down below her knees, like an untidy schoolboy; and a pin had no possible effect on the heavy, velvety finish.

"I know," breathed Nora, "I'll roll them." And she did that skillfully; for in the season just past many and many a sock had she rolled and they had stayed, although Barbara never could acquire the same knack.

It was all finally finished, and she inspected herself in the mirror, slanted to the very last angle to show the full length. A pat of the cap, a brash of the tie and a swish of the flying scarf gave the finishing touches.

Really Nora made "a perfectly stunning" little Lord Fauntleroy. Had she been more accustomed to the sayings of the day she might well have exclaimed, "All dressed up and no place to go," but her culture admitted of no such expressive parlance. Instead, she asked herself in the looking glass: "Wonder if I dare go outside? It is so comfortable to wear this style"; and she skipped around as every other girl on earth has ever done the very moment she felt relieved of the trammel of skirts.

The morning was unusually quiet. Vita must be away picking greens, the surveyors were miles out, and there was no one but Cap to criticise. Why shouldn't she stroll out grandly in her princely costume?

She did. The birds twittered and the rabbits scurried and the pet squirrel stood up and begged. But Nora was not feeding the animals this morning, instead, she flounced her lace sleeve in a most courtly gesture and passed on to the cedar tree grove. Cedars seemed more appropriate for velvets than did the other wild trees; besides, no underbrush grew in the cedar grove, and it was much safer for costly finery.

On the rustic seat Nora felt exactly as she had felt the day Miss Baily took her to sit for her picture, except that she crossed her legs comfortably now, whereas, then, she was not even allowed to cross her hands.

Presently the actress removed her (his) cap and poised it on the arm of the chair. Did Lord Fauntleroy go out in his grounds alone? Perhaps she should have called Cap to go along.

Then came thoughts of Nannie. Why must she, little Nora, always be so far away from that pretty mother? And why did the picture life--the make-believe--charm her like some secret failing? Did other girls really like the horrid brown uniforms never pictured in books, that is, never, until very lately? So raced her unruly thoughts.

Everything was so still, but Nora was not lonely--her own reflections kept her such noisy company that isolation had no terror for her. Just outside the cedar grove a strip of road waited for traffic. Few persons passed, but even woodlands must have roads, just as skies must have clouds.

Feeling more at home in her costume every moment, Nora stepped proudly outside the grove into the clearance. A fat little hoptoad crossed the path, but otherwise the prince was lord of all he surveyed. The whole world was busy, evidently, and even a visiting prince attracted no attention in the wild woodlands.

Nora wanted to whistle. She felt a prince, with hands in pockets inspecting his domain, would surely whistle, but she had never made much of a success at the wind song--it was Barbara who did all the whistling for both. Still, she tried now, and the sound wasn't any worse than the cracked call of the blue-jay, except that it did not carry so far.

What would Barbara say to this game of characters? A companion would add to the possibilities of good times, Nora secretly admitted, but what companion could she find in these wilds?

Just as a sense of loneliness came creeping over her she heard the leaves somewhere crackle. The next moment a girl appeared a few paces up the road, and called to her quickly: "Oh, I say boy! Have you seen the Girl Scouts----"

The voice stopped as suddenly as it had started. The girl in uniform looked so surprised, Nora was conscious of scrutiny, even at the distance between them. She turned her head instinctively and so evaded a direct look; but presently the girl called again:

"I am looking for the girls who are going over to the Ledge. Did you happen to see them pass this way?"

"No," faltered Nora, in a voice not her own. "I just came along. I'm looking for a car----"

"Oh, I saw one. It drove down the turn----"

"Thanks," jerked out Nora, taking the cue to escape, and waving her hand in lieu of further conversation. She dodged behind the heavy elderberry bush and almost gasped in fright. What would a Girl Scout think of her in such a costume? Of course, she had no possible opportunity of seeing her face, and she surely could never recognize her again. Making positive she could get back to the Nest without again stepping out into the roadway, Nora sped back as quickly as her feet could carry her. It was always these Scouts; a sense of humiliation was now added to that of dislike. Would they all talk about her? Perhaps make fun of her or think her odd and foolish?

Too inexperienced to realize that the entire blame was her own, Nora crept up to the flap-jack path that led directly to the cottage door.

Here she was stopped again, for Vita sat out by the big stump, either counting or selecting something from her apron. So engrossed was she in her task she did not hear Nora's footfall, and this gave the "prince" another chance to escape detection. She darted back into the arbor and waited. The only other way to enter the house was at front and she might meet almost anyone in that way.

Her game was losing its charm. She would have given much to be free of the finery and garbed again in her own simple clothes. It was rather mortifying to be considered queer, and that one saving grace, a sense of humor, was entirely lacking in the girl's make-up. Otherwise she might have jumped down from a tree and frightened Vita out of her wits, thus making a lark out of a difficulty.

She waited impatiently. What could Vita be doing that so held her attention? Then the attic memories flashed back to Nora's mind and she wondered.

"Cousin Ted leaves too much to that maid," she was deciding. "I might be able to help by keeping a lookout."

But for what? Vita was surely trustworthy and even extremely kind to Nora, the intruder.

A burr pricked the knee that refused to hold fast to the buckled finery. It must have been rather a nuisance to dress like that. Nora rolled the band tighter and lost her fancy hat in the effort.

Voices!

Girls' laughter. The Scouts, of course, and coming back toward the cottage!

Without waiting to consider Vita's opinion, Nora sprang from her hiding place and darted up the path into the cottage.

Voices within as well as without!

Cousin Ted was back from the woods and had company. How could Nora reach her room without being seen?

She crouched behind the kitchen cabinet, hoping the voices would leave the hall and enter the living room, but, evidently, there was a reason for delay, and the big seat was right at the foot of the stairway!

Now Vita's flat slippers patted the stones and she was coming into the kitchen.

Disgusted with the entire affair, Nora turned into the back stairway. She had never mounted those stairs, they were used only by the maid, but just now there seemed no other avenue of escape. She heard the shuffling feet of Vita as she climbed the bare treads.

They were narrow and dark, only a small window cut in an opening somewhere allowed enough light to penetrate to make sure the steps were those of stairs. A narrow landing marked the line where the second floor must be. Then there was another turn, a sort of sharp twist in the queer ladder-like climb.

Nora was too far up now to hear Vita's step in the kitchen.

"But this must lead to the attic," she reasoned. "I may as well go on up as to go--down."

Cobwebs a-plenty here. She jerked back from their tangles, fearing spiders and other crawling things.

"Oh," she exclaimed. "I do wish I had not come this way. It's so--spooky!"

At every step the darkness increased and the light dwindled. Reaching a good-sized platform, Nora stood, thankful to draw an easy breath. She could just about see that she had only one short flight of steps to go to reach a door.

"I would never have believed this house was so high," she pondered. "I feel as if I came up from a cellar to a tower."

Then, resolutely, the pilgrim started on again. Only a few steps and she found herself face to face with two doors. They were unpainted and each stood at angles from the landing.

"Which?" she asked instinctively; for, while she wanted to reach the attic, she was careful to remember which way she had come in this crooked, gloomy place. Besides this, the attic was a mysterious part of that pretty house, Nora realized.

"It must be all right to go in here--all of the rooms are ours and Cousin Ted said they were all kept clean."

With this caution she pushed open one of the unpainted doors and stepped inside.

She gasped! The place was in almost total darkness!