Tommy neither demurred nor accepted her help, but as she turned the top pillow Erica’s fingers encountered a big, round wet spot just where the boy’s flushed face had been pressed when she entered. She made no comment, but she was suddenly conscious of that uncomfortable lump in her own throat once more. Tommy never knew she had discovered that he had been shedding a few bitter tears alone in the dark. It was probably partly homesickness for his twin, rebellion against lying there like a log, helpless and in pain, and a sudden break-down of the barriers he had built so pluckily about his disappointment. Remembering her own crying-spell down on the beach that afternoon, Erica shrewdly suspected that Tommy would feel the better for giving way—as long as he never discovered that anyone knew of it. She finished beating his pillows, pulled up more smoothly the soft, hand-woven woolen blankets on the bed, and, going over to the table, lighted the lamp. Aunt Callie appeared in the doorway just as she finished the last of her tasks. Mrs. Folger’s thin face was paler than usual, and her eyes, blinking a little in the yellow lamplight, had pink rims about them as if she too, had been crying; but her lips were smiling. “I told Aunt Charity that I meant to keep you for supper, Erica,” she observed. “Tommy and I need you tonight. And I thought,” she went on, still determinedly cheerful, “that if you’d help me, my dear, we might all have our suppers up here on this table by Tommy’s bed. I’ve got fresh gingerbread, and I’m going to fry a chicken. I had Mart Joy kill one of the young roosters this morning. Will you children have chocolate to drink, instead of milk? It’s no trouble at all to make a pot.” At fifteen the prospect of a good supper has a magically cheering effect. Both the girl’s and boy’s faces brightened perceptibly. “Chocolate, please, ma’am,” Tommy elected. CHAPTER IV The weeks it took for Tommy’s broken bones to mend were a trying period, not only for Tommy himself, but for his mother and Erica as well. The boy tried valiantly to be patient, but he had never stayed in bed a day in his active young life before, and as the days grew into weeks it seemed to him that he could not bear the terrible inaction and monotony another hour. Then, in spite of his best efforts, he would snap at everyone about him, refuse to be pleased with Erica’s hard-working efforts to entertain him, and behave—as he would admit shamefacedly when the grumpy fit had passed—like a spoiled baby generally. Even Erica grew a little pale and peaked toward the end of Tommy’s convalescence, missing the outdoor life she was used to, but steadily refusing to desert her patient, who came to depend more and more on her as the days passed. Mrs. Folger could not be in the sickroom always, as she had a dozen household duties which must be seen to every hour of the day, and Miss Charity, though she came over when she could, was likewise engaged with her own housekeeping.