She turned over and went to sleep then, and slept so heavily that she did not hear the noises of the awakening household.  Once Mrs. Sherman came to the door and peeped in, but, finding her asleep, tiptoed out again.  It was nearly noon when she awoke, feeling as tired as when she went to bed.  She dressed languidly and went down-stairs, but was so unlike her usually sunny self, that Mrs. Sherman watched her anxiously.  Late in the afternoon she sent for Doctor Fuller, and a general wail went up when he announced what was the matter with her.

“More measles, Mrs. Sherman,” he said, cheerfully.  “Well, this is the most extraordinary house party I ever heard of.  You seem to be exceedingly partial to this one line of amusements.”

“It isn’t fair for Betty to have it,” exclaimed Joyce, “when she wouldn’t go to the camp, and she’s had it before!  It’s just too bad!”

“We’ll all have to be mighty good to her,” said the Little Colonel, “for she was so sweet about amusing us.  We’ll take turns reading to her and entertaining her, for she stayed hours with us in that dark room when she could have been outdoors enjoying herself.”

“That is probably the reason she is laid up now,” answered the doctor.  “She should have kept entirely away from you.”

“But she had had one case,” explained Mrs. Sherman, “and we never dreamed of her having another.  Poor little thing!  I hope this will be light.  She had a hard time before, so we must make a regular frolic of this, girls.”

“Well, no, madam, at least not for several days,” said the doctor, gravely, “And you must be extremely careful about her eyes.  They seem to be badly affected, and I must warn you that they are really in danger.”

They told Betty that afterward, thinking it would stop her crying, when everything else failed to do so, if she realised how necessary it was for her not to inflame them with her tears.  Usually she was a sensible little body, obedient to the slightest suggestion, but now she lay curled up in a disconsolate little heap in bed, sobbing as if her heart would break.

“Oh, I don’t want to have the measles!” she sobbed, catching her breath in great gasps.  “Oh, I don’t want to!”

“My dear little girl, don’t let it distress you so!” begged Mrs. Sherman, leaning over and tenderly wiping the flushed little face.

“It will not be any worse for you than for the other girls, and in a few days when you feel better we are going to have all sorts of sport out of it.  The girls are planning now what they shall do to make up to you for this disappointment.  They feel as if they are to blame for bringing this illness upon you by their disobedience, and you cannot imagine how bad it makes them feel to have you take it to heart so bitterly.”

But even that failed to stop her tears, and presently Mrs. Sherman went out into the hall, where the girls were waiting for her.