"Eh, Lettice! What is the matter?" asked the Doctor.
Lettice looked up silently. She had not heard the question, till it was twice repeated.
"Something is disturbing you, child."
"Oh, nothing—I mean nothing really of consequence," said Lettice cheerfully. "It was only—about my room."
"What about it?"
"Mrs. Bryant wanted to be able to open my boxes. She said they would be too heavy to move. I don't know why—they never have been." Lettice usually made it her rule never to complain to the Doctor of his wife: but resentment was for once too strong to be mastered. "I shouldn't care with any of them—except one."
"Do you keep your boxes in your bedroom?"
"Yes. I don't mind. Mrs. Bryant said there was not room anywhere else in the house. And I shouldn't like that one to go—the biggest."
"Why?"
"Sissie's things are all in it—" very low.