Mrs. Bower, appearing importantly, announced supper. Beyond the hall, through the open door of the dining-room they could see the loaded table with the tureens of steaming oysters at each end.
There was at once a rollicking stampede.
Anne leaned down to wake Peggy. The child opened her heavy eyes, and murmured: "I want a drink."
Richard glanced at her. "Hello, hello," he said, quickly. "What's the matter, Pussy?"
"I'm not Pussy—I'm Peggy." The child was ready for tears.
He picked her up in his arms and carried her to the light. With careful finger he lifted the heavy eyelids and touched the hot little cheeks. "How long has she been this way?" he asked Anne.
"Just since supper. Is there anything the matter with her? Is she really sick, Dr. Brooks?"
"Measles," he said succinctly. "You'd better get her straight to bed."
