Great care and quiet are needed. Let him
sleep as much as possible."

But that was the difficulty, for, as time went on, Ambrose seemed less
and less able to sleep quietly at night. As evening drew on the fever
and restlessness increased; he could not bear to be left alone a moment,
and often in the night he would start up and cry out trembling:

"Take her away." "She is coming." "Don't let her catch me."

It was most distressing for everyone and puzzling too, for no one could
imagine what it was that had frightened him in the garret, or how he
came to be there at all at that time in the evening. It was evidently a
most terrible remembrance to him, for he could not bear the least
reference to it, and to question him was a sure way to give him what he
called "bad dreams." So in his presence the subject was dropped; but
Mrs Hawthorn and Nurse did not cease their conjectures, and there was
one person who listened to their conversation with a feeling of the
deepest guilt. This was Pennie, who just now was having a most
miserable time of it, for she felt that it was all her fault. If she
had not told those stories about the Goblin Lady it never would have
happened, although it certainly was Nancy who had put the garret into
Ambrose's head.

Nancy was the only person she could talk to on the subject, but she was
not any comfort at all.

"Don't let's think about it," she said. "I knew you made it up. I
daresay he'll get better soon."

Poor Pennie could not take matters so lightly; it was a most dreadful
weight on her mind, and she felt sure she should never have another
happy minute till she had confessed about the Goblin Lady. But she was
not allowed to see Ambrose, and she could not bring herself to tell
anyone else about it. Once she nearly told mother, and then something
stuck in her throat; and once she got as far as the study door with the
intention of telling father, but her courage failed her and she ran
away.

She would creep to Ambrose's door and listen, or peep round the screen
at him while he was asleep, and her face got quite thin and pointed with
anxiety. Every morning she asked:

"Is he better, mother? May I go and sit with him?" But the answer
always was:

"Not to-day, dear. We hope he is better, but he has such bad nights."

Pennie was very wretched, and felt she could not bear it much longer.

She was in the nursery one morning looking listlessly out of the window,
when her atte