"What is the matter with this household?" Billie's thoughts continued. "One would think an earthquake had shaken us out of our senses. Even Papa is out of sorts. I don't think I ever saw him quite this way before. As for me, I can't seem to pull out of the general depression. It's just closing in on us and drawing us down. Papa," she exclaimed out loud, "I believe we need a trip. When are you going to take us to the mountains? Nancy is terribly run down, and Cousin Helen is feeling the heat, and Elinor and Mary and I are going to be run down, too, if you don't hustle us off somewhere."
"Very soon now, daughter. Just one more piece of business to transact and—er—a question to settle, and I'll pack you all off to a cool, dry place."
"It will be the very opposite to this one, then," announced Billie. "Hot and damp are the words to use about Tokyo, and they do say the long rains are coming on—" she stopped short and looked at Nancy.
Everybody was looking at Nancy, in fact.
Mary and Elinor were wondering why Nancy looked so conscious. Miss
Campbell was thinking how pale the girl looked, and Mr. Campbell was
thinking of something quite different, but very important, concerning
Nancy Brown.
Billie tried to cover the uncomfortable silence by adding with a forced cordiality:
"Nancy-Bell needs the change more than any of us."
"Very well, if agreeable to your Royal Highness, I will let you know tonight when we shall break up camp and march for the hills."
"Good," cried Billie. "The Court is prepared to move on a moment's notice."
Mr. Campbell beckoned to his daughter to follow him to his library after breakfast. Billie had already had a foreboding that something was the matter, and she was sure of it as soon as she had entered the room and closed the door.