Babette shivered under her shawl, and looked more drearily than ever at the lashing sleet.
Nine--another hour, and no sign from the sick-room, yet.

Babette rose up in desperation, but just at that moment Grace came upstairs.
"You here, Babette!" she said, surprised.

"Who is with Agnes ?" "The Doctor, Mademoiselle! he told me to wait until he came out, and I have waited, and I am too sleepy to wait any longer.

May I go, Mademoiselle ?" "Yes, go," said Grace, "I will take your place." Babette departed with alacrity, and Grace sat down by the storm-beaten window.

She listened for some sound from the sick-room, but none rewarded her.