In a few seconds the Doctor came down in his dressing-gown, and let
himself be put into his easy-chair; his two daughters waiting on him
with fond assiduity, their eyes questioning his fagged weary face,
but reading there fatigue and concern that made them--rather awe-
struck--bide their time till it should suit him to speak. Mary was
afraid he would wait till she was gone; dear old Mary, who at twenty-
two never dreamt of regarding herself as on the same footing with her
three years' senior, and had her toast been browner, would have
relieved them of her presence at once. However, her father spoke
after his first long draught of tea.

'Well! How true it is that judgments are upon us while we are
marrying and giving in marriage!'

'What is it, papa? Not the scarlatina?'

'Scarlatina, indeed!' he said contemptuously. 'Scarlet fever in the
most aggravated form. Two deaths in one house, and I am much
mistaken if there will not be another before morning.'

'Who, papa?' asked Mary.

'Those wretched Martins, in Lower Pond Buildings, are the worst. No
wonder, living in voluntary filth; but it is all over the street--
will be all over the town unless there's some special mercy on the
place.'

'But how has it grown so bad,' said Ethel, 'without our having even
heard of it!'