“I hope not,” she said. “I hope she’ll be all right when she wakes up. The best and strongest of babies have their little turns. Don’t look so troubled, my dears.”
Just then Emma, who had had her breakfast before, came into the room, and was crossing to the door which led into the night-nursery, when she was stopped.
“I’ll tidy the room myself this morning, Emma,” said nurse. “I don’t want any one to go in. Miss Dolly’s not very well.”
“She’s been very cross this day or two, crying enough to make herself ill. You spoil her, nurse, that’s what I say,” said Emma, pertly.
Nurse made no reply, except to repeat her orders to Emma not to enter the bedroom.
As soon as breakfast was over, the three children—Artie and Mary with clean pinafores, and all with smoothed hair and nicely-washed hands—went downstairs as usual to the dining-room for prayers. But to their surprise their mamma was not there, nor was nurse. They did not wonder much about nurse, however, for they knew some one would have to stay beside baby in case she woke.
But to-day several things seemed strange and different from usual. Instead of going up to the nursery again their father told them they were all to go to the little study where Leigh and Artie did their lessons with their tutor.
“For baby must not be disturbed,” he said, “and if you were all playing in the nursery the noise would go through to the other room.”
“Mayn’t I go up to the nursery, papa dear?” asked Mary. “Just me. I’d be kite quiet. I don’t like to be away from nursie and baby,” and her voice sounded as if she were going to cry. “And I don’t know what to do when Mr Fibbetts comes.”
“Mr Phillips,” said papa. “You’re getting too big to talk so babyishly, Mary. And you mustn’t be selfish, my dear. If you can play quietly in the nursery you can play quietly in the study, or perhaps I’ll send Emma to take you out a little.”