Papa said the child ought to be sent to a hospital, and he thought that if that were done she could be cured. Mamma said that she thought so too; but that someone had been talking to little Ellen, and frightened her so that she cried whenever the hospital was talked of, and her mother would not send her unless she felt willing to go.
Then mamma spoke of how lonely it must be for the little girl there in the house by herself all the day, while her mother was out at work, with so little to amuse her.
“Mamma,” said Teddy, “why can’t little Ellen have some of my books to amuse her— some I had when I was sick? Because, you know, I’m well now, and don’t need them any more.”
“That’s a very good idea,” said mamma, looking pleased. “You may choose the ones you will give her, and perhaps papa will leave them with her when he goes out for a walk this afternoon.”
“Well,” cried Teddy, eagerly, “I think I’ll give her the Ali Baba book and Robinson Crusoe, and I think, maybe, I’ll give her Little Golden Locks too.”
Mamma brought the books, and they tied them up in a neat package, and just as they finished there was a little rattle of china outside the door, and in came Hannah with Teddy’s luncheon, and a great yellow orange that Aunt Pauline had sent him.
After luncheon mamma made Teddy lie down for a while to rest. The Venetian shutters were drawn, so that all the room was dimly green, and then mamma and papa went out and left him alone.
Teddy lay there for what seemed to him a long time. The house was very still, and the afternoon sun shone in through the slats of the shutters in golden chinks and lines.
Teddy wondered where mamma was, and why she didn’t come back, for it seemed to him that he had been alone almost all the afternoon, though really it had not been for long.
Presently he heard someone humming cheerfully back of the counterpane hill, and as soon as he heard it he felt sure that the Counterpane Fairy must be coming.