No reply came from the interior. And she called again, this time quite loudly:
“Rosie, dear!”
Then she opened the door an inch or two. There was a rush of skirts across the room, and Rosie appeared. She was evidently in a state of extreme excitement.
“What’s the matter? Are you ill?” asked Rosie.
“I—I was wakened by some noise or other,” said Pauline painfully, and it appeared to her that Carpentaria was whispering in her ear the words that she must say. “And—and—I—I thought perhaps something had gone wrong here.”
“No,” was Rosie’s reply. “But how queer you look, darling! You must have had a nightmare. You have quite startled me.”
Pauline did not answer at once.
“You aren’t undressed! You haven’t lain down,” she said at length. “I thought you could always sleep very well on that sofa.”
“So I can,” said Rosie. “But I’ve been reading. And besides—it’s rather upsetting about Cousin Ilam. I wonder where he can be.”
“Oh!” Pauline remarked summarily, “he’s pretty certain to turn up to-morrow. I expect he’s gone into town.”