"Well, my child—what is it?" said the kind voice she had learned to love devotedly. Mrs. Mowbray was arranging some of the displaced books in the bookcases, and spoke with only a fleeting glance at the person approaching her, to see who it was.
"May I speak to you, madame?"
"Yes—speak. What is it?"
"I do not know how to say what I want to say."
"Straight out, my child. Straight out is best. What is the matter?"
"Nothing, with me, madame. But—if it would not give too much trouble—I thought I would like it very much if I could be put in another room."
"Sleeping room?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"Why?"—Mrs. Mowbray's quick hands were busy all the while she was talking; putting up and pulling down. Rotha hesitated.
"Madame, before I answer I should like to ask another question. What ought I to do if I see something done which you have forbidden?"