she
announced as she lingered a moment after the others had gone, "so that
we can communicate without having to walk ten steps--I counted them
this morning--and open two doors."

"Who has your old room, Judy?" inquired Molly.

"You'd never guess in a thousand years, so I'll have to enlighten you,"
answered Judy. "A young Japanese lady."

"For heaven's sake!" cried Molly and Nance in one breath, while Judy,
who loved a climax, sailed from the room without vouchsafing any more
information.

CHAPTER II.

OTOYO.

Molly and Nance were very busy that night arranging their belongings.
Molly's tastes were simple and Nance's were what might be called
complicated. Molly had been reared all her life in large spaces, big,
airy rooms, and broad halls, and the few pieces of heavy old mahogany in
them were of the kind that cannot be bought for a song. Nance had been
reared in an atmosphere of oiled walnut and boarding house bric-a-brac.
She was learning because she had an exceedingly observing and
intelligent mind, but she had not learned.

Therefore, that night, when Molly hung the white muslin curtains, and
spread out the beautiful blue antique rug left by Frances Andrews, she
devoutly hoped that Nance would "go easy" with the pictures and
ornaments.

"What we want to try to do this year, Nance," she announced from the top
of the step ladder, "is to keep things empty. We got fairly messy last
winter after Christmas. I'm going to keep all those banners and things
packed this year."

"Perhaps I'd better not get out those passe-partouted Gibson pictures,"
began Nance a little doubtfully.

"Just as you like, Nance, dear," said Molly.

She would rather have hung the wall with bill posters than have hurt her
friend's feelings.

"Honestly, you aren't fond of them, are you?" asked Nance.

"Oh, it isn't that," apologized Molly. "But I think so many small
pictures scattered over a big wall space are--well, rather tiring to the
optic nerves."

Nance looked sad, but she had unbounded faith in Molly's opinions.

"What shall we do with this big empty wall space, then?" she asked,
pausing in her unpacking to regard a sea of blue-gray cartridge paper
with a critical eye.

At this juncture there came a light, timid tap, so faint, indeed, that
it might have been the swish of a mouse's tail as he brushed past the
door.

Molly paused in her contemplation of blank walls and listened.

"Did you hear anything, Nance?" she