But one morning in March they came without Grace, and all looking grave and troubled.
"Where's Gracie? Why didn't she come?" asked Lulu, with a vague feeling of uneasiness.
"She's sick," Max answered, trying to swallow a lump in his throat, and keep the tears from coming into his eyes; "and so is the baby, and the doctor—Cousin Dick Percival—says they both have the scarlet-fever in almost its worst form."
Lulu, who knew something of the deadly nature of the disease, stood speechless with surprise and dismay; the other two girls were crying now.
Presently Lulu burst out vehemently, "I must go home! I will go! It's the cruelest thing in the world to keep me away from my darling Gracie when she's so sick and may be going to—oh, I can't say it! I can't bear to think it!" and she began sobbing as if her heart would break.
Evelyn put an arm about her.
"Lu, dear Lu, don't be so distressed. The doctor has not said that either case is hopeless; and they may both get well."
"The dear baby, too!" sobbed Lulu; "oh I do love her, she is such a darling!"
"Indeed she is," said Max, vainly trying to steady his tones; "and it's hard to see her suffer. Gracie, too—she's so sweet and patient, and so good. I heard some of the old servants talking together this morning about her, saying she was just like a little angel, and too good to live; and—and I'm afraid she is."
He quite broke down with the last word.