Roxy searched the fields for wild flowers for her father’s room; she brought up her dolls to keep him company, and one day, to Dulcie’s horror, Roxy was discovered bringing the squawking bantams through the kitchen, and in spite of all Dulcie’s exclamations and warnings the little girl carried the surprised fowl up to her father’s chamber and set the covered basket down near his bed.
“What have you named them?” he asked, leaning over to admire their shining feathers and bright eyes; and Roxy confessed that she had not thought of naming them.
“Why not call them Napoleon and Josephine?” he suggested. “You see, Napoleon was small but he was as brave and noisy as this small bantam; and Josephine was beautiful, and so is Madame Bantam!”
Roxy laughed happily. Now that her father could sit up the greater part of each day and was always ready to tell her stories, and to hear whatever she had to say, Roxy felt that all was well; and to have him give the bantams such fine names made her once more eager for a visit from Polly that she might tell her friend all that had happened in the week since her father’s arrival; for Polly no longer came every day. She was keeping her promise to her father, and worked in the garden and in the house, and the two girls’ signals each morning was all they knew of each other.
Roxy was looking forward to the day when her father would come down to the porch; her mother said they would have a celebration on that day, and Roxy signalled for Polly to come over, and greatly to her delight Polly’s answering signal was “yes,” and Roxy hastened to the kitchen to ask a special favor of Dulcie.
“Dulcie, I expect my father will come downstairs to-morrow,” she began.
“Now, ain’ dat good news, Missy!” exclaimed Dulcie. “I reckons I’d better hab fried chicken, an’ new peas, an’ co’n fritters”—and with her hands on her hips and her eyes fixed far above Roxy’s head Dulcie named over a list of tempting dishes, to which Roxy listened a little impatiently and before she had finished interrupted by exclaiming:
“Yes! Yes, Dulcie! And plum tarts! I specially want plum tarts.”
“Does yo’ so, Missy Roxy? Den I’ll hev ter make de pastry ter-day. Pastry dat ain’ set de day ’fore it’s e’t ain’ wuth nothin’!” and Dulcie shook her head smilingly as she watched the little girl hurry off to the garden to gather the tall yellow lilies that blossomed near the stone wall.
Roxy carried these to her father’s room and found him sitting near the window.