. I might have a raging fever. I feel as if I might be beginning
to have one now. I won't have letters written to my father--I won't--I
won't! You are making me angry and you know that is bad for me. I
feel hot already. I hate being written about and being talked over as
much as I hate being stared at!"

"Hush-h! my boy," Dr. Craven soothed him. "Nothing shall be written
without your permission. You are too sensitive about things. You must
not undo the good which has been done."

He said no more about writing to Mr. Craven and when he saw the nurse
he privately warned her that such a possibility must not be mentioned
to the patient.

"The boy is extraordinarily better," he said. "His advance seems
almost abnormal. But of course he is doing now of his own free will
what we could not make him do before. Still, he excites himself very
easily and nothing must be said to irritate him." Mary and Colin were
much alarmed and talked together anxiously. From this time dated their
plan of "play actin'."

"I may be obliged to have a tantrum," said Colin regretfully. "I don't
want to have one and I'm not miserable enough now to work myself into a
big one. Perhaps I couldn't have one at all. That lump doesn't come
in my throat now and I keep thinking of nice things instead of horrible
ones. But if they talk about writing to my father I shall have to do
something."

He made up his mind to eat less, but unfortunately it was not possible
to carry out this brilliant idea when he wakened each morning with an
amazing appetite and the table near his sofa was set with a breakfast
of home-made bread and fresh butter, snow-white eggs, raspberry jam and
clotted cream. Mary always breakfasted with him and when they found
themselves at the table--particularly if there were delicate slices of
sizzling ham sending forth tempting odors from under a hot silver
cover--they would look into each other's eyes in desperation.

"I think we shall have to eat it all this morning, Mary," Colin always
ended by saying. "We can send away some of the lunch and a great deal
of the dinner."

But they never found they could send away anything and the highly
polished condition of the empty plates returned to the pantry awakened
much comment.

"I do wish," Colin would say also, "I do wish the slices of ham were
thicker, and one muffin each is not enough for any one."

"It's enough for a person who is going to die," answered Mary when
fir