Harriet signified that she had already made that inquiry.

"Ask if you sleep with me, Harriet."

"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.