Grace followed at a sign from her brother, who ran down stairs.
The sick girl was not asleep--she lay with her eyes wide open, staring vacantly at the white wall.

She looked at them, when they entered, with a half-frightened, half-inquiring gaze.
"Are you better, Agnes ?" asked Rose, looking down at the colourless face.
"Oh, yes!" She answered nervously, her fingers twisting in and out of her bed-clothes--her eyes wandering uneasily from one to the other.
"Wouldn't you like something to eat ?" inquired Rose, not knowing what else to say.
"Oh, no!" "You had better have some tea," said Grace decisively.

"It will do you good.

I will fetch you up some presently.

Rose, there is the breakfast bell." Rose, with a parting nod to Agnes, went off, very much disappointed, and in high dudgeon with Doctor Frank for not letting her cross-examine the seamstress on the subject of the ghost.
"The ghost she saw must have been Mr.Richards returning from his midnight stroll," thought Rose, shrewdly.