There were three flights of stairs, and it appeared to Tom that it took her an age to ascend them. She thought she could not pray; but body, soul, and spirit seemed to go up to God in one voiceless but impassioned cry of entreaty.
She could scarcely breathe when she reached the door; but she opened it gently, and said softly, “Sissie! Sissie!”
The child was too much interested in the nest to hear her, and Tom felt suddenly as if she had lost her voice.
A chair stood by the window; the little one had evidently stood on it to gain access to the sill. Would she step back to the chair now?
“Sissie! Sissie, darling!” said Tom. But she was afraid to go too near the window, for fear of frightening the little one. What should she do? Had she better ring the bell and rouse the house? Or fetch Geoff to call his sister?
Presently it occurred to her that if she went softly round by the wall she could manage to suddenly clutch the little form. And she tried; but Sissie saw her, and Tom’s heart sank with dismay.
“You can’t catch me, Miss Tom!” she said.
And Tom opened her arms, and said, “Come to me, darling; I have something for you.”
The next moment Tom sank to the floor with the little one in her arms; Sissie murmuring, in tones of contrition, “Poor auntie! Naughty, naughty Sissie!”
Almost directly there were steps on the stairs, and sobs in the voices of those who tried to ask questions.