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 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."