“Will you make cookies?”
“Yes, darling.”
“Then I want you back. Aunt Janey made cookies, and she didn’t know about the raisins.”
“Mother knows how to give cookie-men raisin eyes. Mothers know a lot of things that aunties don’t, darling.”
“Well, I wish you’d come back.” He stood by the side of the bed. “I’d like to sleep with you to-night. May I, Mother-dear?”
“Not to-night, darling. But you may when I come home.”
But days passed and weeks, and Judy did not come home. And the first of February found her still in that narrow hospital bed. And it was in February that Frederick Towne wrote that he was coming to Chicago. “I shall have only a day, but I must see you.”
Jane was not sure that she wanted him to come. He had been very good to them all, and he had not, in his letter, pressed for an answer unduly. But she knew if he came, he would ask.
The next time she went to the hospital, she told Judy of his expected arrival. “To-morrow.”
“Oh, Jane, how delightful.”