“I’m happy, happy, HAPPY,” Maida said one day. The next—Rosie came rushing into the shop with a frightened face.
“Oh, Maida,” she panted, “a terrible thing has happened. Laura Lathrop’s got diphtheria—they say she’s going to die.”
“Oh, Rosie, how dreadful! Who told you so?”
“Annie the cook told Aunt Theresa. Dr. Ames went there three times yesterday. Annie says Mrs. Lathrop looks something awful.”
“The poor, poor woman,” Granny murmured compassionately.
“Oh, I’m so sorry I was cross to Laura,” Maida said, conscience-stricken. “Oh, I do hope she won’t die.”
“It must be dreadful for Laura,” Rosie continued, “Harold can’t go near her. Nobody goes into the room but her mother and the nurse.”
The news cast a deep gloom over the Court. The little children—Betsy, Molly and Tim played as usual for they could not understand the situation. But the noisy fun of the older children ceased entirely. They gathered on the corner and talked in low voices, watching with dread any movement in the Lathrop house. For a week or more Primrose Court was the quietest spot in the neighborhood.
“They say she’s sinking,” Rosie said that first night.
The thought of it colored Maida’s dreams.