"He must have caught cold," he said. "It isn't very bad so far, but I'm afraid—I'm very much afraid he mustn't go out to-day."
He—Uncle Geoff—looked at me as if he were wondering how I would take this.
"Oh, poor Tom!" I cried. "Oh, Uncle Geoff, it was all my fault for letting him go out last night. Oh, Uncle Geoff, do forgive me. I'll be so good, and I'll try to amuse poor Tom and make him happy all day."
"Then you don't want to go without him?" said Uncle Geoff.
"Oh, of course not," I replied. "Of course I'd not leave Tom when he's ill, and when it was my fault too. Oh, Uncle Geoff, you don't think he's going to be very ill, do you?"
Tom looked up very pathetically.
"Don't cry, poor Audrey," he said. "My t'roat isn't so vrezy bad."
Uncle Geoff was very kind.
"No," he said. "I don't think it'll be very bad. But you must take great care of him, Audrey. And I don't know how to do. I don't like your being left so much alone, and yet there's no one in the house fit to take care of you."
"Hasn't Mrs. Partridge got a new nurse for us?" I asked.