"—She'd better rest. Good-by." And with that mild advice, he beckoned the nurse to follow him, whispered with her a moment at the door, and was gone.
Gwendolyn's father resumed his place beside the bed. "She can rest," he declared, "—the blessed baby! Not a governess or a teacher is to show as much as a hat-feather."
She nodded. "We don't want 'em quacking around."
Someone tapped at the door then, and entered—Rosa, bearing a card-tray upon which were two square bits of pasteboard. "To see Madam," she said, presenting the tray. After which she showed her white teeth in greeting to Gwendolyn, then stooped, and touched an open palm with her lips.
Gwendolyn's mother read the cards, and shook her head. "Tell the ladies—explain that I can't leave my little daughter even for a moment to-day—"
"Oh, yes, Madam."
"And that we're leaving for the country very soon."
Rosa bobbed her dark head as she backed away.
"And, Rosa—"
"Yes, Madam?"