My sister had been ill, so I called to see how she was doing. My ten-year-old niece answered the phone. “Hello,” she whispered.
“Hi, honey. How’s your mother?” I asked.
“She’s sleeping,” she answered, again in a whisper.
“Did she go to the doctor?”
“Yes. She got some medicine,” my niece said softly.
“Well, don’t wake her up. Just tell her I called. What are you doing, by the way?”
Again in a soft whisper, she answered, “Practicing my trumpet.”