"Oh, I don't suppose it was that," Edna tried to rea.s.sure her. "I might have taken cold yesterday, for I got so warm running when we were playing Hide-and-Seek. Oh, how lovely, Reliance, you have brought up grandma's dear little dishes that were given her when she was a little girl. I love those little dishes with the flowers on them."

"You're to eat this first," said Reliance, uncovering a small tureen in which some delicious chicken broth was steaming. "There is toast to go with it. Then if you feel as if you wanted any more, there is a little piece of cold turkey and some jelly."

But in spite of her belief that she could eat every bit of what was before her, Edna could do no more than manage the broth and one piece of toast, Reliance watching her solicitously while she ate. "You're not very peckish, are you?" she said. "Well, anyhow I am glad this didn't come on before you had your Thanksgiving; it would have been dreadful if it had happened yesterday."

"I am glad, too," returned Edna. "What time is it, Reliance?"

"It's most dinner time. As soon as the boys come in, it will be ready.

I'll take back the tray, but I have to go awful careful, for I would sooner break my leg than these dishes." She bore off the tray as Edna snuggled back against her pillows, holding one of Serena's kid hands in hers in order that she might feel less alone. She was not left long to Serena's sole company, however, for first came her father to say good-bye, then Aunt Emmeline stopped at the door, and behind her, Cousin Becky and Uncle Wilbur, all ready with sympathy and good wishes. A little later, she heard the carriage drive off which should take all these to the train. There was silence for a time which finally was interrupted by a tap at the door.

"Come in," called Edna.

The door opened, and in walked Ben with a large red book under his arm.

"h.e.l.lo, you little old scalawag," he said. "What in the world did you go and do this for?"

"I couldn't help it," said Edna apologetically.

"You poor, little, old kitten, of course you couldn't. Well, I have brought you up Mr. Fox, and I wanted to tell you that the lady by the willow has had another accident; she dropped her last chocolate marshmallow and the dog stepped on it. Of course, that wasn't as bad as the first, but when you have only one handkerchief it is pretty hard to have to cry it twice full of tears. Fortunately, hers has had a chance to dry between whiles."

Edna smiled. It was good to have Ben come in with his nonsense. "Hasn't she found her eyelash yet?"

"No, and it was a wet one which is awfully hard to find unless it is raining; it is hard enough then, goodness knows. How did you stand all the racket this morning? If a noisy noise annoys an oyster, how much of a noisy noise does it take to annoy Pinky Blooms? That sounds like a problem in mental arithmetic, but it isn't. Shall I read to you a little?"

"Oh, please."

"About Reynard, the Fox, shall it be?"

"Oh, yes. I do so want to know how he lost his tail."

"Then, here goes," said Ben, as he opened the big, red book. Edna settled herself back against the pillows and Ben began the story, while Edna was so interested that she forgot all about her headache. He finished the tale before he put the book down. "How do you like it?" he asked.

"It is perfectly fine. Are there other stories in that book?"

"Yes, some mighty good ones. Here, do you want to see the pictures? They are funny and old-fashioned, but they are pretty good for all that." He laid the book across Edna's knees and showed her the ill.u.s.trations relating to Reynard, the Fox, all of which interested her vastly.

"I am so glad I know about this book," she said as she came to the last page. "I always thought it was only for grown-ups, and never even looked at it. Will you read me some more to-morrow?"

"Sorry I can't, ducky dear, for I am off by the morning train to a football game which I can't miss."

"Oh, I forgot about that. Are the boys going, too?"

"Yes, and Celia. We are all going back together. There is something on at the Evanses Sat.u.r.day night, and Celia wouldn't miss that."

"Neither would you," said Edna slyly.

"You're a mean, horrid, little girl," said Ben in a high, little voice.

"I'm just going to take my book and go home, so I am."

"It isn't your book; it is grandma's."

"I don't care if it is; I'm not going to play with you, and I will slap your doll real hard."

"Do you mean Serena? She isn't my doll; she is grandma's. Her name is Serena, don't you remember? I've known her ever since I was a little, little thing."

"And what are you now but a little, little thing, I should like to know."

"I'm bigger than Lulie Willis, but I'm not big enough to go to Agnes's party Sat.u.r.day night." She spoke somewhat soberly, for she did want to be there.

"Oh, never mind," said Ben, with an air of comforting her, "I shall be there and I am as big as two of you."

"I don't see how that makes it any better," said Edna, after searching her mind for a reason why it should be of any comfort to her.

"Oh, yes it does," returned Ben, "for if I were only as big as you I shouldn't be there either."

"As if that helped it."

"Oh, yes it does, for, you see, they will have a lot of good things and I can eat enough for you and me both, I am sure," he added triumphantly.

"That is an excellent argument. If a thing can be done for two persons instead of one, it makes all the difference in the world."

Edna put her head back against the pillows. Ben was too much for her when he took that stand.

"There," said the lad contritely, "I'm making your head worse by my foolishness. Are you tired? Is there anything I can do for you? Would you like one of the kittens?"

"Oh, yes, Ben, I would. They are so comforting and cozy. I am glad you thought of that."

"Shall I leave the red book or take it down?"

"Leave it, please; I might like to look at it after a while."

So Ben went off, returning directly with one of the kittens which he deposited on the bed and which presently cuddled close to the child.

Then Ben left her, Serena by her side and the kitten purring contentedly in her arms.

CHAPTER VI

THE OLD HOUSE

Although Edna was much better the next day, it was thought prudent to keep her indoors. All the guests departed with the exception of her mother, her Aunt Alice and her own self, the house resumed its ordinary quiet and seemed rather an empty place after its throng of Thanksgiving visitors.

"You'd better make up your mind to stay another week, daughter," said grandma to Edna's mother. "This child isn't fit to be out, and won't be for two or three days."

"Oh, I think she will be able to go by Monday," replied Mrs. Conway. "I shouldn't like to keep her out of school so long."

"Her health is of much more importance than school," grandma went on.

"She is always well up in her studies, isn't she? You remember that I didn't have the usual visit last summer, and as Alice is going to stay we could all have a nice cozy time together."