"You know perfectly well," said his mother without surprise, "that I
can't spare one of these hot-water bottles to throw at you, John,
and I think you're taking a despicable advantage."
"I'll get you some more hot water," said he placidly, collecting two
red bags and a gray one, and crossing to her stationary washstand.
"There's a lower stratum you might get, Joy," suggested Mrs. Hewitt,
and Joy reached down at the hint and secured the two remaining
bottles, which she filled when John was through.
"That's _much_ better," Mrs. Hewitt thanked them, with what was
very like a purr.
"Incidentally," said John with concern in his voice, "it's about all
anybody can do for you till the weather changes; that and being
careful of your diet."
"Yes, and I got it this morning standing out in the damp and chill,
watching you out of sight. Watching people out of sight is unlucky,
anyway," said his mother. "I might as well say it, if you won't. And
I don't expect to be able to get up tomorrow, which is Thursday."
"Thursday?" asked John, sitting down on the couch at the foot of the
bed. "Is Thursday some special feast?"
"Thursday's the cook's day out, usually," explained Joy practically.
"But she doesn't need to worry. Dear, if you'll tell me what to do----"
"Usually Nora attends to things that day," explained Mrs. Hewitt
sadly, but with a trace of hope in her voice, "but tomorrow she has
a funeral she must attend.
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