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 softly.

"Hi, Honey. How's your mother doing?" I asked.

"She's sleeping," she answered, again in a whisper.

"Did she go to the doctor?" I asked.

"Yes. She got some medicine," my niece said softly.

"Well, don't wake her. Just tell her I called. What are you doing,
by the way?"

Again in a soft whisper, she answered, "Practicing my trumpet."

Dave Oesterreich