Poppet put her head under the clothes and sobbed hysterically; the little, narrow bed with its spring mattress was shaking.
“Oh!” said Nellie,—“oh dear, this is tiresome! Poppet, do you want anything? Would you like a drink?—oh, I’m in such a hurry,—what is it, Poppet? What’s the use of being silly, now? When a dream’s gone, it’s gone. Stop crying at once, or I shall be very angry, and go and leave you in the dark!”
The bed shook even more violently.
“M-M-Meg!” was the word that came with a choking sound from under the counterpane,—“oh, M-M-Meg!”
“All right, I’ll send her if you’ll be good,—not for a minute or two, because she’s talking to some gentlemen, but as soon as I can whisper to her. Here, drink this water before I go, and stop sobbing. You’re too big a girl to go on like this, Poppet.”
[59]
]Nellie’s voice had a stern note in it,—she thought kindness would make her cry more, and there really was not time to argue with her.
“[MEG CAUGHT A GLIMPSE OF SOMETHING WHITE OUTSIDE BUNTY’S DOOR.]”
Five, six, seven minutes slipped away after she had gone; then Meg came running lightly upstairs and into the room the child shared with Nellie.
“She’s too excitable—I’ll have to make her go to bed earlier,” she thought, as she crossed over to the tossed bed. “Nightmare—poor little mite!”