o stay."

"Why not?"

"Because if you haven't had the measles you might get them, and, besides,
poor Mrs. Bower is so busy."

"Why not tell me the truth? You don't want me to stay."

"What difference can it possibly make to me?"

"It may make a great difference," Geoffrey said, quietly, "whether I go
or stay, but we won't talk of that. I am here. All my traps, bag and
baggage, typewriter and trunks--books and bathrobe--and yet you want to
send me away."

"I haven't anything to do with it. But the house is closed to every one."

"And everything smells of antiseptics. I rather like that. I spent six
weeks in a hospital once. I had a nervous breakdown, and the quiet was
heavenly, and all the nurses were angels."

She would not smile. "Of course if you will stay," she said, "you must
take things as they come. Mrs. Bower will send your meals up to you. She
won't have time to set a company table."

"I'm not company; let me eat with the rest of you."

She hesitated. "You wouldn't like it. I don't like it. There's no
service, you see--we all just help ourselves."

"I can help myself."

She shook her head. "It will be easier for Mrs. Bower to bring it up."

He climbed three steps and stopped. "Are you going to do all the
nursing?"

"I shall do some of it. Peggy is really ill. There are complications. And
Mrs. Bower and Beulah have so much to do. We shall have to close the
school. Dr. Brooks wants to save as many as possible from having it."

"So Brooks is handling Peggy's case."

"Of course. Peter Bower knew his grandfather."

"Well, it is something to have a grandfather. And to follow in his
footsteps."

But her mind was not on grandfathers. "Dr. Brooks will be here in an hour
and I must get Peggy's room ready. And will you please look after
yourself for a little while? Eric will attend to your trunks."

It took Geoffrey all the morning to settle. He heard Richard come and
go. At noon Anne brought up his tray.

Opening the door to her knock, he protested. "You shouldn't have done
it."

"Why not? It is all in the day's work. And I am not going to be silly
about it any more."

"You were never silly about it."

"Yes, I was. But I have worked it all out in my mind. My bringing up the
tray to you won't make me any less than I am or any more. It is the way
we feel about ourselves that counts--not what other people think of us."

"So you don't care what I think of you?"

"No, not if I am doing the thin