anything was the matter with mother? Why, she was the central sun about
which their little family world moved! There could not--must not--be
anything wrong with mother!

"Tell us plainly, father," urged Celia's soft voice. She was pale, but
she spoke quietly.

Charlotte, at the first word of alarm, had turned her face away. Jeff's
bright black eyes--he was Charlotte's counterpart in colouring and
looks--rested anxiously on the second violin's curly mop of hair, tied
at the neck with a big black bow of ribbon. It was always most
expressive to Jeff, that bow of ribbon.

Lansing repeated Celia's words. "Yes, tell us plainly, sir. We'd rather
know."

"I am alarming you," Mr. Birch said, quickly. "I knew I could not say
the slightest thing about her without doing that. But I need to talk it
over with you all, because if we carry out the doctor's prescription it
means much sacrifice for every one. I had no doubt that you would make
it, but I think it is better for you to understand its importance.
Doctor Forester says New Mexico is an almost certain cure for such
trouble as mother's, if taken early. And we are taking it early."

Justin and Jeff looked puzzled, but Celia caught her breath, and
Lansing's ruddy colour suddenly faded. Charlotte buried her head in her
father's shoulder and drew the scarlet flannel arm tighter about his
neck.

The iron-gray head bent over the curly black one for a moment, as if the