"No, don't speak," she said, in a hoarse whisper. "I _know_ you have bad news, but don't tell me now, not until we get home." "Get in," said Miss Mills, "I won't be long driving you to the Rectory. It is rather important for you to be there, and as the trap only holds two, perhaps Mr. Quentyns won't mind walking." "Not at all," said Jasper, in his pleasant, calm voice. "Can you make room for our portmanteau at your feet, Miss Mills? Ah, yes, that will do nicely. By the way, how are you all? has Judy quite recovered from her faint?" When Quentyns asked this question Miss Mills bent suddenly forward under the pretense of trying to arrange the portmanteau. "We won't be any time getting to the Rectory," she said, turning to Hilda; she touched the pony with her whip as she spoke and they started forward. "It was such a pity you didn't come last night," said the governess, as they entered the Rectory gates. "I--I could not help it," murmured poor Hilda. With one hand she was tightly grasping the edge of the little basket-carriage. "Stop, there is father," she exclaimed suddenly. "Let me go to him. I--I can bear him to tell me if there is anything wrong." In an instant she reached the Rector's side. Her arms were round his neck, her head on his shoulder, and she was sobbing her heart out on his breast. "My dearest Hilda, my darling!" exclaimed her father. "What is the meaning of all this? Why are you so dreadfully unhappy, my child?" "Tell me, father, I can bear it from you. Is she--is she dead?" "Is who dead?" "Ju--Judy." "No; what has put that into your head? But your little sister is very ill, Hilda. I am not so much alarmed about her as your Aunt Marjorie is, but I confess her state puzzles me. I saw Dr. Harvey to-day, and I don't think he is satisfied either. It seems that for some reason the child was over-excited last night--there was difficulty in getting her off to sleep, and she cried in a very distressing and painful way. I was obliged to sit with her myself. I held her hand, poor little darling, and had a prayer with her, and--toward morning she dropped off into a sleep." "And," continued Hilda, "she was better when she awoke, wasn't she? Do say she was, father. You showed her Jasper's telegram the very instant she awoke, and of course she got much better immediately." "My dear Hilda, the strange thing about Judy has yet to be told; she has not awakened--she is still asleep, and this prolonged and unnatural sleep disturbs Dr. Harvey a good deal." "I had better go to her at once, father. I think the doctor _must_ be mistaken in thinking sleep bad. When Judy sees me sitting by her bedside she will soon cheer up and get like her old self. I'll run to her now, father: I don't feel half so much alarmed since you tell me that she is only asleep." The Rector gave vent to a troubled sigh; Hilda put wings to her feet, and with the lightness and grace of a bird sped toward the house.