"Did she know what the matter was?" asked Rosanna.
"No, not that we know, only she is so sad, when she is herself, that daddy thinks she knows."
"Oh, I do feel sure that she will get well!" said Rosanna.
Claire sadly shook her head.
"There is no hope," she repeated. "We have had doctor after doctor, all the big specialists, and they can't do a thing. And oh, Rosanna, she was so pretty and so bright! We were so happy!"
"How did you find out about it?"
"She commenced to have headaches," said Claire, then added haltingly, as though she could not bear to tell even Rosanna about it, "and she grew so angry about everything: awfully angry, so daddy was afraid she might hurt me. She did once or twice, but I never told. She just hit me with things, you know. Then the doctors said she must go away, my pretty, pretty, loving mother, who used to love me so! Why, she was never happy for a single minute unless daddy or I was with her. And she used to be so full of fun and tricks, just like a little girl. And oh, Rosanna, now I have to think of my mother in a sanitarium, with just nurses to look after her. Daddy's heart has broken and so has mine. And, Rosanna, that is not all. I am going insane, too."
After a stupefied pause, Rosanna bounced violently up on her knees and shook Claire roughly.
"Claire, what a thing to say!" she exclaimed. "How can you say anything like that? Never, NEVER say it again."
"It doesn't matter whether I say it or not," said Claire, "it is going to happen, and it will kill daddy. Why, Rosanna, I have the most awful tempers you ever dreamed of and when they come on I don't know or care what I do or say. I feel too awfully afterwards, of course, but I go into a sort of frenzy and can't control myself. I hate to tell you all this, Rosanna; you will not understand it perhaps, but if I do not tell someone, I shall die! I cannot bear it alone any longer. We have kept it so quiet about mother. No one in the Army suspects. We always say she has had a nervous breakdown."