The nurse, however, had heard no such story: she stood whispering with her mistress, talking over this strange occurrence, while Rosalind soothed and quieted the excited child. Amy’s little bed was in the outer room, but all was still there, the child never stirring, so absolutely noiseless that her very presence was forgotten by the two anxious women comparing notes. “He always keeps to the same story,” said nurse. “I can’t tell what to make of it, ma’am, but Master Johnny always was a little strange.” “What do you mean by a little strange? He is a dear child, he never gives any trouble, he is just a darling,” Aunt Sophy said. “It is his digestion that has got a little wrong. A shock like that of the other day--it sometimes will not tell for some time, and as often as not it puts their little stomachs wrong. A little medicine will set everything right.” Nurse demurred to this, having notions of her own, and the discussion went on till Rosalind, who had persuaded Johnny to compose himself, and sat by him till he fell asleep, came out and joined them. “It will be better for you not to leave him without calling me or some one,” she said. “Miss Rosalind!” cried nurse, with natural desperation, “children is dreadfully tiring to have them all day long, and every day. And nurses is only flesh and blood like other people. If I’m never to have a moment’s rest, day nor night, I think I shall go off my head.” All this went on in the room where little Amy lay asleep. She was so still that she was not considered at all. She was, indeed, at all times so little disposed to produce herself or make any call upon the attention of those about her, that the family, as is general, took poor little Amy at her own showing and left her to herself. It did not even seem anything remarkable that she was so still--and nobody perceived the pair of wide-open eyes with which she watched all that was going on under the corner of the coverlet. Even Rosalind scarcely looked towards her little sister’s bed, and all the pent-up misery and terror which a child can conceal (and how much that implies) lay unconsoled and unlightened in poor little Amy’s breast. Meanwhile Johnny had fallen fast asleep, untroubled by any further thought of the apparition which only he was supposed to have seen.