f a
sudden it struck me that I was very selfish. This trouble was far, far
worse for the Nestors than for me. Possibly by this time the London
doctor had had to tell them that their father would never get better,
and here was I thinking more, I am afraid, of the dulness of being one
night without dear granny than of the sorrow that was perhaps coming
over Sharley and the others of being without their father for always.

For I scarcely think my 'presentiments' would have troubled me much
except for the being alone and missing granny so.

I made up my mind to be sensible and not fanciful. I got out what I
called my 'secret work,' which was at that time a footstool I was
embroidering for grandmamma's next birthday, and I did a good bit of it.
That made me feel rather better, and when my bedtime came it was nice to
think I had nothing to do but to go to sleep and stay asleep to make
to-morrow morning come quickly.

I fell asleep almost at once. But when I woke rather with a start--and I
could not tell what had awakened me--it was still quite, quite dark,
certainly not to-morrow morning.

'Oh, dear!' I thought, 'what a bother! Here I am as wide awake as
anything, and I so seldom wake at all. Just this night when I wanted to
sleep straight through.'

I lay still. Suddenly I heard some faint sounds. Some one was moving
about downstairs. Could it be Kezia up still? It must be very
late--quite the middle of the night, I fancied.

The sounds went on--doors shutting softly, then a slight creak on the
stairs, as if some one were coming up slowly. I was not exactly
frightened. I never thought of burglars--I don't think there has been a
burglary at Middlemoor within the memory of man--but my heart did beat
rather faster than usual and I listened, straining my ears and scarcely
daring to breathe.

Then at last the steps stopped at my door, and some one began to turn
the handle. I _almost_ screamed. But--in one instant came the dear
voice--

'Is my darling awake?' so gently, it was scarcely above a whisper.

'Oh, granny, dear, dear granny, is it you?' I said, and every bit of me,
heart and ears and everything, seemed to give one throb of delight. I
shall never forget it. It was like the day I ran into her arms down the
steep garden-path.

'Did I startle you?' she went on. 'Generally you sleep so soundly that I
hoped I would not awake you.'

'I was awake, dear grandmamma,' I said, 'and oh, I am so glad you have
come home.