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." The next few days passed slowly and strangely. It was strange and dull to be without the boys, and to Hoodie it was particularly strange that no one scolded her for what she knew she had deserved scolding. They went out for a walk twice a day, by the doctor's orders, who came to see them the morning after the unfortunate visit to the cottage. Every one was very kind, but every one looked grave, and very soon Hoodie began to find it very dull to have no lessons to do, no Hec and Duke to play and quarrel with, and to have to spend all their time in the two rooms, except of course when they were out with Martin, who never left them for a minute. It was very dull, but worse was to follow. On the morning of the sixth day, Maudie woke with a headache, and a bad pain in her throat, and bravely as she tried to bear it, it was plain to be seen that the poor little girl was suffering very much. Martin would not let her get up, and an hour or two after breakfast, Hoodie, sitting alone and very disconsolate in the day-nursery, heard Dr. Reynolds and her mother coming up-stairs. She jumped up and ran to meet them. "Mamma," she said, "Martin won't let me play with Maudie, and I've nothing to do. Martin is very cross." Mrs. Caryll looked gravely at Hoodie. "Hoodie," she said, "you _must_ be obedient." "And Miss Maudie doesn't want her, ma'am," said Martin, appearing at the door of Maudie's room. "She can't bear the least noise; and any way it's better for Miss Hoodie not to be near her, isn't it, sir?" she asked, turning to the doctor. He shrugged his shoulders. "As to infection," he said, "separating them now is a chance the more, that's all one can say. But one must do one's best. And in any case the child is better out of a fevered atmosphere. I would prepare another room for her, I think," he added to Mrs. Caryll, and then they both went into Maudie's room, and Hoodie heard no more. Hoodie sat by herself, drumming her little fat legs on the side of the table.