"_There's some one up there_," she whispered, all the color gone from
her face.

"Hush," said Anne, with her eyes on Judy.

Judy was not afraid. She was still weak and wan, but she was braver
than the little country girls, and not easily frightened.

"It is probably a pussy cat," she scoffed.

"Or a hen," giggled Amelia.

Anne said nothing. The darkness, the crashing storm outside, and
Judy's illness had upset her, and she shivered with apprehension.

"No," Nannie flared, with a scornful look at Amelia and Judy, "it isn't
a cat and it isn't a hen. IT sneezed!"

"Ask who's there," advised Judy from her couch.

"I don't dare," said Nannie.

"I don't dare," said Amelia.

So that it was little timid Anne, after all, who gathered up her
courage and went to the foot of the stairs and said in a trembling
voice:

"Please, who is up there?"