"An' you fell off of a pony, they tell me," said the tall man. "Well, we all do that, sometime or other. When are you goin' to ride her again?"
"To-morrow," Garth whispered. "Can I, Dad?"
For the second time that day Aileen checked herself in a quick protest. She looked at Tom.
"Certainly you can," he answered gravely. "We'll tackle her together, old son."
CHAPTER VIII
RAIN—AND A FRIEND
But it was not to-morrow, nor for a good many to-morrows, as Tom had probably foreseen, that Garth was in a position to apply himself anew to the education of Jane. He passed a restless night, and morning found him feverish and heavy-eyed, his wrist stiff and painful. He had neither appetite nor energy, and did not resist his mother's suggestion that he should stay in bed.
"You can't expect anything else," Tom said sagely. "He's had a nasty shock, poor youngster, and we must remember he isn't really strong yet, even if he has got a little colour in his cheeks."
"Indeed, he has none this morning," Aileen said.
"Don't worry; he'll get it back again." Tom was far from feeling as cheerful as his words, but to reassure the tired girl across the breakfast-table seemed necessary. "Just make a baby of him for a few days, and let the other work rip. Don't do any cooking except for the boy."