“Suppose we go and tell Di and Phoena,” suggested Marygold; “they’ll be ever so frightened,” she added, in a tone of distinct cheerfulness.
“Oh, yes, let’s,” assented Hubert; it was joy to create a sensation.
But before they had succeeded in awakening Di satisfactorily, or in even making Phoena open her eyes, Ruth had swept down on these young “pilgrims of the night,” and arrested their further exploits.
“There, Miss Di, take Miss Marion into bed with you and keep her quiet,” said Ruth, tucking Marygold into a corner of the huge bed in which Di lost herself every night. “And you come along with me, Master Hubert, we don’t want you running over the house in the middle of the night and catching your death of cold.” And with less gentleness than her wont, Ruth caught Hubert up in her arms and disappeared with him, just when Phoena was beginning anxiously to enquire what had happened.
“Hubert says that Andrew’s dying,” said Marygold.
“Who told Hubert so?” asked Phoena, very wide awake now and sitting up in her bed. “Did Fay say so?”
“No, it was Phil and Jack b’lieved it,” said Marygold.
“Oh! that all, I suppose his breathing was bad and they were frightened,” said Phoena.
“I expect if we listen, we may hear if there is much disturbance,” said Diana.