He began at last, gently, "Celia--has mother seemed quite strong to you
of late?"
"Mother--strong?" asked Celia, in surprise. "Why, father, isn't she?
She--had that illness last winter, and was a long time getting about,
but she has seemed well all summer."
Their eyes were all upon his face. Even young Justin had swung about
upon his elbows and was regarding his father with attention. They
waited, startled.
"I took her to Doctor Forester to-day, and he--surprised me a good deal.
He seemed to think that mother must not spend the coming winter in this
climate. Don't be alarmed; I don't want to frighten you, but I want you
to appreciate the necessity. He thinks that if mother were to have a
year of rest and change we need have no fears for her."
"Fears!" repeated Lansing, under his breath. Was it possible that
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.
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