“I tried to think—the way you said, but I can’t. Is Sidney—” sniffle—“going to die—” sniffle—“like Ted Gordon?”
“No,” said Elliott, who a minute ago had been afraid of the very same thing. “No, I am perfectly positive he is going to get well.”
Just saying the words seemed to help, somehow.
Priscilla snuggled closer. “You’re awful comforting. A person gets scared at night.”
“A person does, indeed.”
“Not so much when you’ve got company,” said Priscilla.
The warmth of the little body in her arms struck through to Elliott’s own shivering heart. “Not half so much when you’ve got company,” she acknowledged.