by L. T. Meade
be gratified. Annie has anextraordinary power over children, and under the circumstances I shalltake it upon me to disobey the doctor's directions. The child must bequieted at all hazards. Run for Annie, dear--you know her room. I hadbetter stay with little Nan, for, though she loves you best, you don'tsoothe her at present--that is often so with a fever case."
"One moment," said Hester. She turned again to the little crib.
"Hetty is going to fetch Annie for Nan. Will Nan give her own Hetty onekiss?"
Instantly the little arms were flung round Hester's neck.
"Me like 'oo now, dood Hetty. Go for Annie, dood Hetty." InstantlyHester ran out of the room. She flew quickly down the long passage, anddid not know what a strange little figure she made as the moon from alarge window at one end fell full upon her. So eerie, so ghost-like washer appearance as she flew noiselessly with her bare feet along thepassage that some one--Hester did not know whom--gave a stifled cry.The cry seemed to come from a good way off, and Hester was toopreoccupied to notice it. She darted into the room where Susan Drummondand Annie Forest slept.
"Annie you are to come to Nan," she said in a sharp high-pitched voicewhich she scarcely recognised as her own.
"Coming," said Annie, and she walked instantly to the door with herdress on, and stood in the moonlight.
"You are dressed!" said Hester in astonishment.
"I could not undress--I lay down as I was. I fancied I heard Nan'svoice calling me. I guessed I should be sent for."
"Well, come now," said Hester in her hardest tones. "You were only sentfor because Nan must be quieted at any risk. Come, and see if you canquiet her. I don't suppose," with a bitter laugh, "that you willsucceed."
"I think so," replied Annie, in a very soft and gentle tone.
She walked back by Hester's side and entered the sick-room. She walkedstraight up to the little cot, and knelt down by Nan, and said, in thatstrangely melodious voice of hers--
"Little darling, Annie has come."
"Me like 'oo," said Nan, with a satisfied coo in her voice, and sheturned round on her side, with her back to Miss Danesbury and Hester,and her eyes fixed on Annie.
"Sing `Four-and-twenty,' Annie; sing `Four-and-twenty,'" she saidpresently.
"Four-and-twenty blackbirds baked in a pie," sang Annie in a low clearvoice, without a moment's hesitation. She went through the old nurseryrhyme once--twice. Then Nan interrupted her fretfully--
"Me don't want dat 'dain; sing `Boy Blue,' Annie."
Annie sang.
"`Tree Little Kittens,' Annie," interrupted the little voice presently.
For more than two hours Annie knelt by the child, singing nursery rhymeafter nursery rhyme, while the bright beautiful eyes were fixed on herface, and the little voice said incessantly--
"Sing, Annie--sing."
"`Baby Bun,' now," said Nan, when Annie had come almost to the end ofher selection.
"Bye baby bunting, Daddy's gone a-hunting-- He's gone to fetch a rabbit-skin, To place the baby bunting in."
Over and over and over did Annie sing the words. Whenever, even for abrief moment she paused, Nan said--
"Sing, Annie--sing `Baby Bun.'"
And all the time the eyes remained wide-open, and the little hands wereburning hot; but, gradually, after more than two hours of constantsinging, Annie began to fancy that the burning skin was cooler. Then--could she believe it?--she saw the lids droop over the wide-open eyes.Five minutes later, to the tune of "Baby Bunting," Nan had fallen into adeep and sound sleep.
CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE.
A SPOILT BABY.
In the morning Nan was better, and although for days she was in a veryprecarious state, and had to be kept as quiet as possible, yet MissDanesbury's great dread that fever would set in had passed away. Thedoctor said, however, that Nan had barely escaped real injury to herbrain, and that it would be many a day before she would romp again, andplay freely and noisily with the other children. Nan had chosen her ownnurse, and with the imperiousness of all babies--to say nothing of sickbabies--she had her way. From morning till night Annie remained withher, and when the doctor saw how Annie alone could soothe and satisfythe child he would not allow it to be otherwise. At first Nan would liewith her hand in Annie's, and her little cry of "Sing, Annie," going onfrom lime to time; but as she grew better Annie would sit with her bythe open window, with her head pillowed on her breast, and her arm roundthe little slender form, and Nan would smile and look adoringly atAnnie, who would often return her gaze with intense sadness, and anindescribable something in her face which caused the little one tostroke her cheek tenderly, and say in her sweet baby voice--
"Poor Annie; poor tibby Annie!"
They made a pretty picture as they sat there. Annie, with her charminggypsy face, her wild, luxuriant, curly hair, all the sauciness andunrest in her soothed by the magic of the little child's presence; andthe little child herself, with her faint wild-rose colour, her dark deepeyes, clear as summer pools, and her sunshiny golden hair. But prettyas the picture was Hester loathed it, for Hester thought during thesewretched days that her heart would break.
Not that Nan turned away from Hetty; she petted her and kissed her andsometimes put an arm round Hetty and an arm round Annie, as though, ifshe could, she would draw them together; but anyone could see that herheart of hearts was given to Annie, and that Hester ranked second in herlove. Hester would not for worlds express any of her bitter feelingsbefore Annie; nay, as the doctor and Miss Danesbury both declared that,however culpable Annie might have been in causing the accident, she hadsaved little Nan's life by her wonderful skill in soothing her to sleepon the first night of her illness, Hester had felt obliged to grumblesomething which might have been taken for "thanks."
Annie, in reply to this grumble, had bestowed upon Hester one of herquickest, brightest glances, for she fathomed the true state of Hester'sheart toward her well enough.
These were very bad days for poor Hester, and but for the avidity withwhich she threw herself into her studies she could scarcely have bornethem.
By slow degrees Nan got better; she was allowed to come downstairs andto sit in Annie's arms in the garden, and then Mrs Willis interfered,and said that Annie must go back to her studies, and only devote herusual play-hours and half-holidays to Nan's service.
This mandate, however, produced woe and tribulation. The spoilt childscreamed and beat her little hands, and worked herself up into such apitch of excitement that that night she found her way in her sleep toAnnie's room, and Annie had to quiet her by taking her into her bed. Inthe morning the doctor had to be sent for, and he instantly prescribed aday or two more of Annie's company for the child.
Mrs Willis felt dreadfully puzzled. She had undertaken the charge ofthe little one: her father was already far away, so it was impossiblenow to make any change of plans; the child was ill--had been injured byan accident caused by Annie's carelessness and by Hester's want ofself-control. But weak and ill as Nan still was, Mrs Willis felt thatan undue amount of spoiling was good for no one. She thought it highlyunjust to Annie to keep her from her school employments at this mostimportant period of the year. If Annie did not reach a certain degreeof excellence in her school marks she could not be promoted in herclass. Mrs Willis did not expect the wild and heedless girl to carryoff any special prizes; but her abilities were quite up to the average,and she always hoped to rouse sufficient ambition in her to enable herto acquire a good and sound education. Mrs Willis knew how necessarythis was for poor Annie's future, and, after giving the doctor anassurance that Nan's whims and pleasures should be attended to for thenext two or three days, she determined at the end of that time to asserther own authority with the child, and to insist on Annie working hard ather lessons, and returning to her usual school-room life.
On the morning of the third day Mrs Willis made inquiries, heard thatNan had spent an excellent night, eaten a hearty breakfast, and wasaltogether looking blooming. When the girls assembled i
n theschool-room for their lessons, Annie brought her little charge down tothe large play-room, where they established themselves cosily, and Anniebegan to instruct little Nan in the mysteries of--
"Tic, tac, too, The little horse has lost his shoe."
Nan was entering into the spirit of the game, was imagining herself alittle horse, and was holding out her small foot to be shod, when MrsWillis entered the room.
"Come with me, Nan," she said; "I have got something to show you."
Nan got up instantly, held out one hand to Mrs Willis and the other toAnnie, and said, in her confident baby tones--
"Me tum; Annie tumming too."
Mrs Willis said nothing, but, holding the little hand, and