"Not to go?" repeated the child.
"No. Marjorie has scarlet fever. Good-by, Miss Rice. I will write and explain. There is the bell ringing. Hurry, child, hurry!"
And they were but just in time. The train moved off with Miss Rice, and Elizabeth remained in Philadelphia.
It seemed too good to be true. She asked her aunt a thousand questions, but she gained little satisfaction. Now that Elizabeth was saved from the danger of infection, Miss Herrick did not know what to do next. According to the doctor, she must not remain with them; but now that the home in Virginia was closed to her, there seemed to be no way of disposing of the child. Her mind was so occupied with Elizabeth's future that she could not attend to her present needs.
They returned to the house which Elizabeth, in tears, had left so short a time before, and then Miss Herrick got into her carriage and drove to the doctor's. He must help her out of the difficulty.
The result was that the town house and the country house were closed for the summer, and the three Misses Herrick went to the sea-shore. When they should come back in the autumn, there was to be a new order of things. Elizabeth was to go to school, and she was to have companions of her own age.
"That is, if you don't want to kill her," said the doctor, bluntly, when he had stated his views.
That same night Elizabeth heard that Marjorie Redmond had died of scarlet fever. She had been almost glad to hear that she was ill, for it had been the means of preventing her from going there; and now the favorite cousin of whom Val had been so fond was dead.
Miss Herrick shuddered when she heard the news. How narrow Elizabeth's escape had been! If she had gone a week earlier, there would have been no saving her. But she gave no sign of the strong hold that her niece had gained upon her heart, and Elizabeth little guessed how much her aunt really cared for her.