still the grandmother watched and waited, with a perpetual song of thanksgiving at her heart.
It was late in the morning of the third day when Alice awoke from her restorative sleep, calm and refreshed, and with a clear brain; but weak—oh! weak—to almost infantine weakness. Instinctively she turned her head to address her faithful watcher; but she missed the dear old familiar face, which she remembered had bent like that of a guardian angel above her. But with returning clearness of mind had come back Alice's habitual thoughtfulness for the comfort of others; and remembering her grandmother's patient and protracted watching, she naturally concluded she had left her to seek the refreshment of needed sleep, and she kept very quiet, resolved not to disturb her, but to wait patiently until she came to her.
But she waited long and vainly—no one came; and at last, feeling the need of nourishment, and hearing Winny moving with restless steps in the room below, she called to her, faintly at first, for fear of disturbing
