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society, where no one could enter without the treasured vouchers, was not to be any concern of hers at thirteen. She doubted that even at eighteen it would be, for her mother would not put any interest to anything to do with her.
    Were all families like hers, she wondered, with a favorite daughter or son and the rest left to fend for themselves. Or was this only in  her  family?
    She helped her mother to carry the great deal of packages she had purchased, for Elvira's arms were full.
    "We are going somewhere else?" she asked.
    "We will take our tea at that little tea shop in the corner, for I find I am completely worn out," said Mrs. Presleigh, and then we will go to the milliner's."
    The driver and groom, having helped stash away their purchases, proceeded to take them further down to the Blue Robin.
    Belinda was thankful for the hour they spend over cups of tea and scones. There, Mrs. Presleigh found an old acquaintance that sat at their table for the duration, freeing Belinda to her own thoughts.
    But toward the end of the hour, Mrs. Cavendish, as the lady was named, revealed disturbing information.
    "Well, it isn't  la grippe  that is going around, my dear, but a deadlier ailment. Mary Jane Hersonel, Mrs. Carlson's niece, is very ill. They say she may not make it. It is an illness that weakens the lungs so that they don't function."
    "I am sorry I ever thought of inviting that woman to our table," said Mrs. Presleigh when Mrs. Cavendish had left, for the first time that afternoon directing her words to Belinda. "I cannot conceive of a worse Friday-face than her. Imagine saying such things to me when I mentioned that Roselle had a cold. And comparing Roselle's slight cold to that girl, that—"
    "Mary Jane Hersonel," provided Belinda. Although Mrs. Presleigh was making light of Roselle's illness,  she  was not. Belinda could not shake the woman's words from her mind, as she looked out the carriage at the afternoon, which had become even gloomier as it advanced.
    "I think I am done for the day," said Mrs. Presleigh, slumping back against the cushions, "I am completely fagged."
    "We'll soon be there, Mama," said Belinda, realizing that her mother's gray look meant that she had taken Mrs. Cavendish's words very seriously.
    Mrs. Presleigh closeted herself with Mr. Presleigh for close to an hour after they arrived and when the door opened, Mr. Presleigh summoned one of the footmen, giving him directions to another physician's house. He, too, seemed very worried. It seemed that while Belinda and her mother had been out, Roselle had gone into fever and her face was hot. Mrs. Presleigh summoned their physician, Dr. Casper, to London.
    Pneumonia was diagnosed one day and measles the next. Not one but three doctors met to discuss what to do. Yet they could do nothing. The combination proved deadly.

    * * * * *

    Roselle died three weeks after their arrival in London. Mrs. Presleigh went about the house like a ghost, unable to believe or accept it.
    It had all happened so fast that the dwellers of the house had not been properly prepared. Mr. Presleigh buried himself in his books and papers.
    Belinda felt immense guilt for feeling little emotion. She felt numbness more than anything. Roselle had always seemed like a porcelain doll in a glass case to her. She had been since birth the undisputed queen of the house on whom everyone doted.
    The servants, taking a cue from Mrs. Presleigh, had favored the elder daughter to the exclusion of the younger one. Roselle seldom spoke to Belinda, considering her of little importance and not worth her notice, so Belinda had hardly known her sister Roselle.
    One must know a person before one can mourn them properly.
    So unexpected was this blow that it threw the family into confusion.
    For several weeks after the funeral, Belinda's parents were paralyzed by shock. Incomprehension was of such magnitude that it muted them so that they could hardly speak, even to each other.
    Such a pall hung on