"Nonsense," cried Judy with authority. "He's got an awful cold, and he's got to go to bed at once. He's shivering all over. It's Nindian fever." "No, really, really--" began Stumper, but was not allowed to finish. "Thin captain biscuits soaked in hot milk with ginger, nutmeg, lemon, and whisky," announced Judy, "would be best." And she shot towards the door, her hair untied and flying. "But, my dear, I assure you--" "Or Bath Olivers," she interrupted, "because they soak better. _You_ know nothing," she added motheringly; "no man ever does." There was contempt in her voice as well as pity. "_Why_ do you know nothing?" inquired Maria, with a blaze of staring eyes, as the door slammed upon her vanishing sister. "_I_ think you know everything," said Tim with pride, decidedly, "only you've forgotten it in India. I think it's silly." "The milk and stuff?" agreed the soldier. "Yes, so do I. And I hate biscuits, and ginger makes me hot and ill--" "Iller than you are already?" asked Maria, "because that means bed." "Maria," he snapped angrily, "I'm not ill at all. If you go on saying I'm ill, of course I shall get ill. I never felt better in my life." Tim turned round like a top. "Then let's play hide-and-seek," he cried. "Let's hide before Judy gets back, and she can come and never find us!" Cousin William suggested they were not enough to play that game, and was of opinion that Aunt Emily might be invited too. "Oh, no," Tim gave his decided verdict, "not women. They can't hide properly. They bulge." And at that moment Judy appeared in the doorway across the hall. "It's coming," she cried. "I've ordered everything--hot milk and Bath Olivers and preserved ginger and--" Cousin William took the matter into his own hands then, for the situation was growing desperate. "Look here," he suggested gravely, yet without enthusiasm, "I'll take the milk and stuff upstairs when I've got into bed, and meanwhile we'll do something else. I'm--that is, my cold is too bad to play a game, but I'll tell you a story about--er--about a tiger--if you like?" The last three words were added as a question. An answer, however, was not immediately forthcoming. For the moment was a grave one. It was admitted that Come-Back Stumper could play a game with credit and success, even an active game like hide-and-seek; but it was not known yet that he could tell a story. The fate of the evening, therefore, hung upon the decision. "A tiger!" said Tim, doubtfully, weighing probabilities. "A tiger you shot, was it, or just--a tiger?" A sign, half shadow and half pout, was in his face. Maria and Judy waited upon their brother's decision with absolute confidence, meanwhile.