“Mother,” said Sibyl.
“What are you doing there, Sibyl? Go back to bed directly.”
“Please, mother, I can’t sleep. I have got a sort of up-and-down and round-and-round feeling. I don’t know what it is, but it’s worse when I put my head on my pillow. I ’spect I’m lonesome, mother. Mother, I really, truly, am going to be sensible, and I know all about father; but may I get into your bed just at the other side. I will lie as still as a mouse; may I, mother?”
“Oh dear, how you tremble,” said Mrs. Ogilvie; “how more than annoying this is! You certainly are not a sensible child at the present moment. If you felt so strange and nervous, why didn’t you ask Nurse or Miss Winstead to sleep in the room with you?”
“But, mother, that wouldn’t have done me any good.”
“What do you mean?”
“They wouldn’t be you. I’ll be quite happy if I can get into bed alongside of you, mother.”
“Of course you may, child, but please don’t disturb me. I am very tired, and want to sleep.”
Sibyl ran round to the other side of the bed, slipped in, and lay as quiet as a mouse.