"No, missy," said the nurse: "You are to share this young lady's room," designating me.
Missy did not leave her seat, but I saw her eyes seek me. After some minutes' silent scrutiny, she emerged from her corner.
"I wish you, ma'am, good night," said she to Mrs. Bretton; but she passed me mute.
"Good night, Polly," I said.
"No need to say good night, since we sleep in the same chamber;" was the reply with which she vanished from the drawing-room. We heard Harriet propose to carry her up stairs. "No need," was again her answer—"No need, no need:" and her small step toiled wearily up the staircase.
On going to bed an hour afterwards, I found her still wide awake. She had arranged her pillows so as to support her little person in a sitting posture; her hands, placed one within the other, rested quietly on the sheet, with an old-fashioned calm most unchildlike. I abstained from speaking to her for some time, but just before extinguishing the light, I recommended her to lie down.
"By and by," was the answer.
"But you will take cold, missy."
She took some tiny article of raiment from the
