Page:The Rejuvenation Of Miss Semaphore.pdf/76

 wail. Really frightened, Prudence advanced into the room, holding the candle above her head. All was as she had left it, except, except—Where was Augusta? The bed was empty. The room was empty. Filled with an indefinable terror, Prudence advanced to her sister's bedside. Oh! horror! Augusta was gone, and in her place lay—what? A little, shrivelled, red-faced baby, wailing feebly, a huge night-cap fallen back off its bald head, a woman's night-dress lying round it in folds a world too wide.

"My God!" exclaimed poor Prudence, "what on earth is this? Am I going mad? Where is Augusta?" Her distracted glance lighted on the broken bottle, and a sudden gleam of intelligence lit up her brain. "Are you Augusta?" she cried to the baby. The tearful baby seemed to make a desperate but ineffectual effort to speak. It appeared to be on the brink of convulsions. There was intelligence in its eye, however, and her worst fears confirmed, poor Prudence dropped the candlestick on her toes, and went into violent hysterics.

Fortunately for her, the room was at the end of a passage, removed from the other sleeping apartments by an intervening bath