“Me like ’oo now, dood Hetty. Go for Annie, dood Hetty.” Instantly Hester ran out of the room. She flew quickly down the long passage, and did not know what a strange little figure she made as the moon from a large window at one end fell full upon her. So eerie, so ghost-like was her appearance as she flew noiselessly with her bare feet along the passage that some one—Hester did not know whom—gave a stifled cry. The cry seemed to come from a good way off, and Hester was too preoccupied to notice it. She darted into the room where Susan Drummond and Annie Forest slept.
“Annie you are to come to Nan,” she said in a sharp high-pitched voice which she scarcely recognised as her own.
“Coming,” said Annie, and she walked instantly to the door with her dress on, and stood in the moonlight.
“You are dressed!” said Hester in astonishment.
“I could not undress—I lay down as I was. I fancied I heard Nan’s voice calling me. I guessed I should be sent for.”
“Well, come now,” said Hester in her hardest tones. “You were only sent for because Nan must be quieted at any risk. Come, and see if you can quiet her. I don’t suppose,” with a bitter laugh, “that you will succeed.”
“I think so,” replied Annie, in a very soft and gentle tone.
She walked back by Hester’s side and entered the sick-room. She walked straight up to the little cot, and knelt down by Nan, and said, in that strangely melodious voice of hers—
“Little darling, Annie has come.”
“Me like ’oo,” said Nan, with a satisfied coo in her voice, and she turned round on her side, with her back to Miss Danesbury and Hester, and her eyes fixed on Annie.