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."