We got matters arranged with speed.

A cot-bed was put up in my wife's dressing room for the nurse.

But now Mrs.McWilliams said we were too far away from the other baby, and what if he were to have the symptoms in the night--and she blanched again, poor thing.
We then restored the crib and the nurse to the nursery and put up a bed for ourselves in a room adjoining.
Presently, however, Mrs.McWilliams said suppose the baby should catch it from Penelope?
This thought struck a new panic to her heart, and the tribe of us could not get the crib out of the nursery again fast enough to satisfy my wife, though she assisted in her own person and well-nigh pulled the crib to pieces in her frantic hurry.
We moved down-stairs; but there was no place there to stow the nurse, and Mrs.McWilliams said the nurse's experience would be an inestimable help.
So we returned, bag and baggage, to our own bedroom once more, and felt a great gladness, like storm-buffeted birds that have found their nest again.
Mrs.McWilliams sped to the nursery to see how things were going on there.

She was back in a moment with a new dread.

She said: "What CAN make Baby sleep so ?" I said: "Why, my darling, Baby always sleeps like a graven image." "I know.