“I always agreed there was a lot of character in that boy,” replied Joshua heartily.
Christopher was told, when he got back to the house, that Jane was asleep and must on no account be disturbed, so he tiptoed disconsolately away and cast about for something to do. He began to be sorry he had not asked leave to ride into the village.
At about five o’clock grandmother called him. Jane was awake and feeling ever so much better—almost like herself in fact. Would Christopher sit with her a short time while grandmother went to her own room?
Jane, who had been sitting up in bed playing quite happily with her paper dolls, dropped back on her pillow when Christopher came in and turning her back, refused to speak to him. Grandmother had already left the room.
“Sit up, Jane,” commanded Christopher, closing the door and drawing a small black lacquered box from his pocket.
“I won’t,” said Jane flatly. “You are a horrid, wicked boy and I don’t like you.”
“But you promised.”
“You spoiled grandmother’s trip to town and mother’ll be scared ’most to death when she hears I’m too ill to let grandmother go.”
“I can’t help that. I didn’t know grandmother would stay home when it wasn’t necessary, and you promised——”
“Grandmother is so disappointed she wants to cry all the time,” went on Jane, her lip quivering.