"How's Alec?" said Aunt Jane.
"All right," replied the child. "You going to tell a story?"
"Well—maybe. I don't know as I know any new stories," she said slowly. She considered it.
"Tell an old one," said the boy. "Any old story," he added with a grim smile under the crisscross bandages of the stiff face.
"Tell about the little red hen," piped a voice from the next bed.
"No—about billy-goat," from across the room.
"Tell about the old lady that runned away," came shrilling close at hand.
Aunt Jane put her hands over her ears. "I can't hear anything," she announced.
Their faces grew still and alert till she should move her hands a tiny crack and they could shout again: "Billy-goat!" "The little red hen!" "The lady that runned away!"