It was undoubtedly occupied. A candle burned in
a shaded corner; a clean bright little fire shone in the grate; a
table, with a cloth on it, held medicine, and a glass; and on the bed
where Bet herself used to lie slept a child. She was turning away,
with a cold feeling round her heart--she had always fancied, doubtless
without any reason, that Mother Bunch would keep the little attic
vacant for her. She crouched down on the landing, waiting until the
merriment should cease downstairs before she sought Mother Bunch.
Presently she heard the sleeping child stir restlessly, and moan in
a very feeble manner. This sound smote on her heart.
"Whoever have the charge of that poor lamb don't set much store by
it," she commented. "I'll go in and speak soft to the child. Dear
heart, what a feeble moan--it might a'most be a baby."
She took off her heavy shoes, and crept back into the room. The outline
of the form in the bed was not that of a very little child.
"About the age of the captain or the general?" murmured Bet.
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