"But promise me you won't go there any more," demanded Nan, sternly, only half mollified.
"I promise gladly. They don't need me now, and it would be wicked to take an unnecessary risk."
"Well, I should think so. Now, remember, you've promised. O Delia! Is dinner ready?"
All through the meal Miss Blake was aware of Nan's eyes fixed upon her in a peculiarly scrutinizing gaze. She was puzzled, but asked no questions, sure that, sooner or later, the girl would disclose the reason herself. At length it came.
"Does your head ache, Miss Blake?"
"No, dear; why?"
"Because your cheeks are pretty red, and I thought you might not be feeling very well."
"Probably the brisk wind has made them so, for I feel very well indeed."
"Oh!"
But at twilight Miss Blake came upon her bending double over a volume of the Encyclopaedia, and a glance showed her what article the girl was studying. It was that headed "Scarlet fever."