When Martin joined the two little girls again, her face looked not only grave, but white. Maudie felt frightened, she hardly knew why. Hoodie, in a state of defiance to meet the expected scolding, was so amazed at its not coming that the surprise kept her quiet. So they all three walked home in silence, though as fast as possible. No lingering by the way to gather flowers, or to watch the ducks in Farmer Girton's pond! Martin held a hand of each little girl, and merely saying now and then, "We must go straight home, my dears," marched steadily on. It was a strange, unnatural kind of walk—the children felt something mysterious about it, without knowing what, and poor Martin's heart was terribly sore. She could not scold Hoodie, naughty as she had undoubtedly been, for sad fears were picturing themselves before her—what might not be the result of Hoodie's disobedience?
"Supposing," thought poor Martin, who was of a very anxious, as well as affectionate disposition, "supposing this is the last walk we ever have together? oh dear, oh dear—scarlet fever is an awful thing once it gets into a family, and the kind that is about is a bad kind, they say."
She did not lose her presence of mind, however. As soon as ever they reached the house, she sent the two children straight up to Maudie's room, a plainly furnished little room opening out of the day-nursery, and told them to wait there till she came to them. Then she went at once to see their mother, and some time passed before she came up to them.
"What's the matter, Martin?" said Maudie, timidly. "Why do you look so sad?"
She did not notice that her mother had followed Martin into the room.
"Martin is rather troubled about something," said her mother, "and you must both try to be very good. And I want to tell you that dear little Hec and Duke are not coming home this evening. They are going to stay a few days at the Rectory."
Maudie gazed up into her mother's face. She saw there were tears in her eyes.
"Mamma!" she exclaimed. Then in a low voice she whispered, "I understand, mamma. I'll try to be good, and I'll pray to God for us not to get the catching illness."
Mrs. Caryll stooped and kissed her.
"I knew you would be good, dear, and try to make Hoodie so too. Poor Hoodie—she does not know what her disobedience may have caused."