Zee laughed at them both with charming unconcern. "Do I have to brush myself down before dinner?" she demanded, edging toward her corner of the table.
"Indeed you do; wash down, and brush down, and rub down, and do it quickly, for here comes father."
Zee obediently skipped up the stairs, and Rosalie ran to the hall to greet her father.
"And how is the Blessing of the Manse?" he asked, crossing the room, with Rosalie still clinging to his arm, to look tenderly into Treasure's soft fine face.
"Perfectly all right," came the even answer.
"But not very healthy," put in Zee slyly, coming back in haste. "Didn't I do a quick job, General? Treasure is all right, but not very healthy. That is why she is a blessing. Haven't you noticed, Rosalie, that blessings are very, very frail? Maybe if I looked sickish you would call me a blessing, too?"
"Is she gone, General?" came the anxious whisper as the father drew near his oldest daughter. "And how did the Problem take it?"
"Gone, father, and the Problem is glad of it—we might have known she would be whatever we did not expect. Now I am the General in very truth, and supper is ready—Zee, don't rush. Just a minute, dear, the pear preserves won't evaporate. You mustn't hurry father into the blessing."
When the blessing had been asked on their food the father looked about the little round table, and his face was richly satisfied.