Jan put her hand on his forehead--far from being hot, the little face
was stone-cold. In a moment she had him out of bed and in her warm arms.
As she took him she felt the chill of the stiff, unyielding small body.

"My precious boy, you're cold as charity! Why didn't you call me long
ago? Why didn't you tell Auntie Jan?"

"I didn't ... know ... what it was," he sobbed.

In no time Tony was put into the big bed, the bed so warm from Auntie
Jan's body, with a lovely podgy magic something at his feet that
radiated heat. Auntie Jan slammed down the window at the bottom, and
then more fairness! She struck a match, there was a curious sort of
"plop," and a little fire started in the grate, an amazing little fire
that grew redder and redder every minute. Auntie Jan put on a blue
dressing-gown over the long white garment that she wore, and bustled
about. Tony decided that he "liked to look at her" in this blue robe,
with her hair in a great rope hanging down. She was very quick; she
fetched a little saucepan and he heard talking in the passage outside,
but no one else came in, only Auntie Jan.

Presently she gave him milk, warm and sweet, in a blue cup. He drank it
and began to feel much happier, drowsy too, and contented. Presently
there was no light save the red glow of the fairy fire, and Auntie Jan
got into bed beside him.

She put her arm about him and drew him so that his head rested against
her warm shoulder. He did not repulse her, he did not speak, but lay
stiff and straight with his feet glued against that genial podgy
something that was so infinitely comforting.

"You are kind," Tony said suddenly. "I believe you."

The stiff little body relaxed and lay against hers in confiding
abandonment, and soon he was sound asleep.

What a curious thing to say! Jan lay awake puzzling. Tragedy lay behind
it. Only five years old, and yet, to Tony, belief was a more important
thing than love. She thought of Fay, hectic and haggard, and again she
seemed to hear her say in her tired voice, trying to explain Tony: "He's
not a cuddly child; he's queer and reserved and silent, but if he once
trusts you it's for always; he'll love you then and never change."

Jan could just see, in the red glow from the fire, the little head that
lay so confidingly against her shoulder, the wide forehead, the
peacefully closed eyes. And suddenly she realised that the elusive
resemblance to somebody that had always evaded her was a likeness to