But she neither moved nor replied.
"Jessie." No motion or response.
"Jessie!" Mr.Dexter stood a few feet from the bed, looking at her.
"She may be sleeping," he thought, and stepping forward, he bent down and laid his fingers lightly on her cheek.

It was unnaturally hot.

"Jessie"-- he uttered her name again--"are you asleep ?" "No." She replied in a feeble murmur.
"Won't you have a cup of tea ?" "No." "Are you sick ?" She did not answer.

He laid his hand upon her cheek again.
"You have fever." A low sigh was the only response.
"Does your head ache ?" Something was said in reply, but the ear of Mr.Dexter could not make out the words.
"Jessie! Jessie! Why don't you answer me?
Are you sick ?" Mr.Dexter spoke with rising impatience.

Still and silent as an effigy she remained.