And so she did, but the only thing she heard distinctly was presently the sound of her cousins’ snoring; their anxiety was not keeping them awake! Phoena’s fears, however, were not so easily allayed.
Nor did she feel reassured when after much opening and shutting of distant doors, she finally heard the sound of hasty footsteps on the flags of the stable-yard below, then that of horse’s hoofs. Blackberry, the farmers’ stout cob, which did all the errands, was being led out of the stable, Phoena made that out plainly, and then, a minute later, she heard someone trot off at a round pace.
Phoena began to tremble in her little bed. Andrew must be very ill, she felt sure of that now, and they were fetching the doctor.
“Oh dear! oh dear! I do hope Andrew isn’t very, very bad,” she said half-aloud, “it’s dreadful to lie here and wonder all through the long night. How I do wish the hours would strike faster.”
The clock struck some twenty minutes later, but Phoena did not hear it. She had fallen asleep again and only awoke to hear Ruth bidding Di and herself to get up as quietly as they could and go down the stairs softly to breakfast.
“Poor Master Andrew has been very ill in the night,” she explained, adding, that though he was better before the doctor left, it was of great importance that his sleep should not be disturbed.
“Did the doctor say that he was dangerously ill?” asked Di.
“Dear me! no, I should hope not,” cried Ruth, “we should have to be sending for your Mamma, in that case, Miss Di, but he has had a very nasty attack of asthma, and Dr. Forbes says he needs all the sleep he can get to help him over the exhaustion. There, it’s a good thing it’s Sunday and you’ll all be going to church this morning—all, that is, except Miss Faith.”
“What’s she doing?” asked Di.
“Sleeping, I hope, poor little soul,” said Ruth, “she’s fairly worn out.”