"I do not know, but I think it too probable, that a contagious disease has broken out in my family. The little Snyders are both ill with scarlet fever."
"They are at home."
"But Miss Tremont is taken in just the same way, and Miss de Forest is complaining. I have isolated them both; but I have no choice but to send all the rest of you away, till I shall know how the thing will go."
Rotha looked terribly blank.
"It is hard, isn't it?" said Mrs. Mowbray, noticing this with a faint smile; "but it is not best for us to have things go too smooth. I have had no rubs for two years or more."
That this was a hard "rub" was evident. Mrs. Mowbray sat looking before her with a troubled face.
"Why is it best for us that things should not go smooth?" Rotha ventured. To her sense the possible good of this disturbance was not apparent, while the positive evil was manifold.
"The Lord knows!" said Mrs. Mowbray. "He sees uses, and needs, which we do not suspect. I am sorry for you, my dear child."
"And I am sorry you are troubled, dear Mrs. Mowbray!"
"I know you are. Your sympathy is very sweet to me.—We have had a pleasant two years together, have we not?"