“Hush! Whisper,” cooed she. “Well, that night Jane put me to bed, just as she always does, in my little room, and then I went to sleep just like I always do. And then I dreamt that I heard mamma screaming and crying, and papa speaking--oh, so differently from the way he generally does; it made me frightened in my dream! I thought it was all real, and I tried to get out of bed; but I was too much asleep; and then I didn’t dream any more, only when I woke up I remembered it. I didn’t tell anybody; and the next night I wondered if I should have the dream again, and I didn’t want Jane to go away; and, when I said it was because I’d had a dream, she said dreams were stuff and nonsense, and she wanted to go and dream at having supper. And then she went away, and I went to sleep. And then I woke up because mamma was crying, and I thought at first it was my dream again; but I knocked my head against the rail of my bed, and then I knew I must be awake. And I got out of bed, and I went quite softly to the door and looked through the keyhole, for there was a light in her room. When she has a light, I can see in quite plainly through the keyhole, and I can see the bed and her lying in it. But she wasn’t alone like she generally is--I could see papa’s hand holding the candle, and he was talking to her in such a low voice; but she was crying and talking quite wildly and strangely, so that she frightened me. When she talks like that, I feel afraid--it doesn’t seem as if she were mamma. And then I saw papa put something on her face, and mamma said, ‘Don’t--don’t! Not that!’ and then she only moaned, and then she was quite still, and I heard him go out of the room. And presently I called ‘Mamma, mamma!’ but she didn’t answer; and I was so frightened, I thought she was dead. But then I heard her sigh like she always does in her sleep, and I got into bed again.” “Were you afraid to go in, darling?” “I couldn’t go in, because the door was locked. It always is, you know. I never go into mamma’s room; I did only once, and she said--she said”--and the child’s soft whisper grew softer still, and she held her tiny lips closer to my ear--“she said I was never to say anything about it--and I promised; so I mustn’t, even to you, Miss Christie dear. You don’t mind, do you, because I promised?” “No, darling, I don’t. Of course you must not tell if you promised,” said I. But I would have given the world to know what the child had seen in that mysterious room.