“Of course, it’s not scarlet fever,” continued Lois, dropping into a chair, “or diphtheria. I suppose Zaidee will get it, and we have to be quarantined. I don’t know what to do about you, Dosia.” She was feeling the fell blow of a contagious disease, which upsets every previously stable condition. “I’ve had the measles,” said the girl, but she added with quick anxiety: “There are my lessons; do you suppose it will make any difference about them? I don’t see how I can lose them now, and there’s that concert Saturday.” “If we’re quarantined, you’re quarantined,” said Lois tersely. “If there was _any_ place where you could go and stay——” “Mrs. Alexander, let her come to me,” said Mrs. Leverich warmly. “I’d love to have her; I _really_ would. She can keep up with her lessons and engagements just the same then. You know, I’m always so happy when I can have a young girl in the house; and as for Mr. Leverich, nothing pleases him better. Go and pack your trunk at once, my dear, and we’ll take it on the carriage as we go back.” Dosia looked hesitatingly at Lois. “Why—I do not know,” said Lois, surprised, yet considering. “But _I_ do.” Mrs. Leverich spoke with a cordial authority that, after a little more conversation, settled the matter. Dosia packed up her belongings, with the sweet, wise little help of Zaidee, who brought shoes and slippers from the closet and toilet articles from the dressing-table, and in her efforts dropped the red ribbon from her hair into the trunk, to her own great glee, amid fond, swift huggings from Dosia. The latter arranged herself for this transmigration with quick, excited fingers, yet there was something on her mind. As she heard Lois on the floor below, she ran down to speak to her, half dressed: “Lois, I hate to leave you here alone; I don’t mind being kept from things, really and truly. Let me stay and help you with dear little Redge.” For once her sympathy made her natural. “No, you had better go,” said Lois. She had but one desire—to be left at liberty at last with her own. She added, to avoid further pleading: “I would rather be alone.” “Oh!” exclaimed Dosia, shrinking. But conscience had unexpectedly claimed her, and she went on, hesitantly, with a painful timidity, her color coming and going: “I wanted to ask—do you think I ought to go to Mrs. Leverich’s, after what you said? Won’t Mr. Barr be there?” In the whole realm of the mother’s mind there was no room for anything at present but her measles-smitten household. She looked at Dosia as if making an effort to understand. “Why, yes, I suppose he will be there. Just don’t have anything to do with him if you don’t want to. You will not need to; he is out of the house most of the time, anyway.”