“I don’t see what we are to do about Evadne!” and Mrs. Hildreth sighed disconsolately. “She looks like a walking shadow. I should not be surprised if she had inherited her father’s disease, and they say now that consumption is as contagious as diphtheria.”
“Horrors!” cried Isabelle. “Do quarantine her somewhere, Mamma, until you are quite sure there is no danger. I haven’t the faintest aspirations to martyrdom.”
“It is a great care,” sighed Mrs. Hildreth. “All of you children have always been so healthy. I don’t believe Doctor Russe will listen to her going to the seaside, and the mountains are so monotonous! Other people’s children are a great responsibility.”
Suddenly Isabelle clapped her hands. “I have it!” she cried. “Send her up to Aunt Marthe, and then we can tease Papa to let us go to Newport. Marion is going to spend the summer with Christine Drayton, you know, and Papa does not intend to leave the city, so we can persuade him that it is our duty to seize such a golden opportunity of doing things economically. I am sure I don’t know what people must think of us, never going to any of the fashionable places. For my part I think we owe it to Papa’s position to keep up with the world.”
“I believe it might be managed,” said Mrs. Hildreth after some consideration. “It was very clever of you to think of it, Isabelle. You ought to be a diplomat, my dear,” and she smiled approvingly on her daughter.
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