Ross repeated her former answer, but it did not appear to satisfy Margaret.
"Let me go and look for him," she said in a tone of distress.
"No, dear; you're not well, you must lie down again."
"You won't let me go!" Margaret struggled a minute in Ross' restraining arms, then sank back on the pillow. "I know why you won't let me go," she cried; "he's dead. He's drowned."
"No, no, darling, he's perfectly safe. Dear Miss Margaret, you've been dreaming."
"He's drowned!" the little girl insisted. "And who's going to tell mother? Oh, it will kill her!"
"Miss Margaret, I solemnly declare Master Gerald's living and well," said Ross, growing more and more concerned. "I wouldn't tell you a story, why should I? You're poorly, dear, and you've had a bad dream."
But Margaret wandered on: "Listen to the rain beating against the window, and the wind howling. And Gerald is out in it all! If he is on the beach, he will be blown into the sea. Look at that great wave! Oh, it has carried him away!" and she uttered a heartrending cry.
"It is a lovely day," Ross assured her; "the sun is shining, and the sea is quite blue and calm. You've been dreaming about the storm, miss, and fancying all sorts of horrors that never happened."
Margaret's blue eyes, wide open, were fixed upon Ross' face, but she evidently had not followed what the woman had said, for after a short silence she began to mutter distressfully about Gerald again.