“The boys will be out of doors much of the time, no doubt. We must try to improve our invalid as rapidly as possible. Poor boy!”
“Mamma,” I said, “what a great generous heart you have! You always pity every one. I have a suspicion that Mr. Louis is cross as well as sick.”
“Then we must minister to the mind as well as the body.”
“I am glad that Stuart is bright and cheerful.”
“O, those children must come in!” she said, starting up. “Fanny is so thoughtless!”
They answered the summons, but sat down on the porch step, where Stuart finished a story of boyish school-pranks, which was very amusing, to say the least. Papa came in time to hear the last of it, and shook his head rather sagely.
“It is past ten,” announced mamma.
“Country bed-time!” said Stuart, gayly. “I suppose, Mrs. Endicott, that is a hint for me to go stir up my bear, and listen to a few growls. A menagerie; ten cents admittance. Who’ll venture in? Don’t all speak at once, or the place may be crowded.”
“Perhaps, since he is not very well, you had better sleep in another room to-night,” mamma said.
“Because he might eat me up in the night, since he refused his supper. I am much obliged, Mrs. Endicott.”