cap or anything else on her head. One of the little
boys had once called her Mother Bunch, because of her stories; and the
name fitted her so well that the whole family, and even her master, took
it up.

Lucy was very fond of her; but when about an hour after the doctor's
visit she was waked by a rustling and a lumbering on the stairs, and
presently the door opened, and the second best big bonnet--the
go-to-market bonnet with the turned ribbons--came into the room with
Mother Bunch's face under it, and the good-natured voice told her she
was to be carried to Uncle Joseph's and have oranges and tamarinds, she
did begin to feel like the spotted cowry, to think about being set on
the chimney-piece, to cry, and say she wanted Mamma.

The Nurse and Mother Bunch began to comfort her, and explain that the
doctor thought she had the scarlatina; not at all badly; but that if any
of the others caught it, nobody could guess how bad they would be;
especially Mamma, who had just been ill; and so she was to be rolled up
in her blankets, and put into a carriage, and taken to her uncle's; and
there she would stay till she was not only well, but could safely come
home without carrying infection about with her.

Lucy was a good little girl, and knew that she must bear it; so, though
she could not help crying a little when she found she must not kiss any
one, nay not even see them, and that nobody might go with her but
Lonicera, her own washing doll, she made up her mind bravely; and she
was a good deal cheered when Clare, the biggest and best of all the
dolls, was sent in to her, with all her clothes, by Maude, her eldest
sister, to be her companion,--it was such an honour and so very kind of
Maude that it quite warmed the sad little heart.

So Lucy had her little scarlet flannel dressing gown on, and her shoes
and stockings, and a wonderful old knitted hood with a tippet to it, and
then she was rolled round and round in all her bed-clothes, and Mrs.
Bunker took her up like a very big baby, not letting any one else touch
her. How Mrs. Bunker got safe down all the stairs no one can tell, but
she did, and into the fly, and there poor little Lucy looked back and
saw at the windows Mamma's face, and Papa's, and Maude's, and all the
rest, all nodding and smiling to her, but Maude was crying all the time,
and perhaps Mamma was too.

The journey seemed very long; and Lucy was really tired when she was
put down at last in a big bed, nicely