"Yes, yes," she answered eagerly; "I'll come, Papa."
"You're not afraid of bumping up against the moon?" asked the doctor playfully, leaning over to pat her cheek. And both gentlemen laughed. Monica didn't answer. She didn't know if she was being made fun of or not.
At last they were in the hall at home, amidst the lights and bustling of the servants. As no one seemed to notice her, Monica took herself up to the nursery. She had dressed there near the fire, and the boxes and things had not been tidied away. Monica stared around, thinking this very unusual, and was just beginning to feel uncomfortably lonely when a little wrinkled old woman with very bright eyes hurriedly trotted in.
"Oh, Grandnurse," exclaimed Monica, "no one is looking after me. How's Mamma?"
"Much better, Dearie. But I'm wanted downstairs; can you spare me, Poppets? Put yourself to bed, and I'll be back directly with your hot milk." Without waiting for an answer she bustled into the adjoining night nursery, where Monica heard her busily opening and shutting the great cupboards.
The cheery old body was called Grandnurse because she had been in the family for ever so long—so long as to have become, as it were, a member of it. Passing through the nursery again she stopped and said—
"What would my Poppets say to a little sister, I wonder! A tiny new baby!"
"Oh, Grandnurse!" And before the old woman could hurry out of the door Monica sprang forward, her face all aglow with excitement, and holding her tight by the arm cried all in a breath—
"Is it true? Where is it? When's it coming? Who's going to bring it?"
"Patience; I can't wait now. Let me go, Dearie," said Grandnurse, disengaging herself from the little girl.