I was resting in the nursery one afternoon--my head had been aching badly--and Emma said an hour's sleep would take it away.

She drew down the blinds and placed my head on the pillow.
There was deeper wrong with my heart than with my head.
My eyes closed, and drowsy languor fell over me.

The door opened, and I saw Alice Young, a very nice, respectable parlor maid, who had not been with us long, enter the room.
"Hush!" said my nurse, "Miss Laura is asleep." I was not quite, but I did not feel able to contradict them.

What did it matter?
"I will not wake missie, but I want to speak to you," she said.

"I am in great trouble, Emma.