that I lend to people who are sick in bed?"

"O, yes."

"And would you like to have a piece of toast, a little tea, and an
orange?"

"O, yes. You are the best aunty in the world."

"Am I, dear?"

Aunt Stanshy was not very demonstrative, so that this "dear" was
exceedingly precious to the warm-hearted Charlie, as was also a small hug
that she gave him. While she was preparing his breakfast Charlie lay
quietly in bed, and heard the sound of the rain on the slanting roof. To a
tired boy in bed, and longing to have some excuse for absence from school,
what music is sweeter than the sound of rain on the roof? Let it be a real
north-easter sweeping in from the sea, pushing along a fleet of many
clouds packed with a heavy cargo of rain, and, as it advances, let this
wind sound many big, hoarse trumpets all about the houses and barns, up
and down the streets! An organ in church played by Prof. Jump-up-and-down
is nothing compared with such a north-easter; Charlie heard the grand
music of the wind. By and by he heard Aunt Stanshy's step on the stairs.
She came slowly up, up, and then Charlie saw her turning from the entry
into his room, bringing the sick-table and Charlie's breakfast She
bolstered him up in bed, putting two or three fat pillows behind his back.
Then she put the little sick-table before him. One side had been hollowed
in, so that an invalid could draw it close about his body. Charlie was now
the invalid to do that thing. What tea! what toast! what an orange!