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"Can I go in to see him?"

"Yes, but don't get too close to him. Oh dear, dear," she mumbled and hurried to the stairway.

Little Troy looked so much smaller in his large bed with the covers brought up to his chin. I had dolls with heads bigger than his head appeared to be against the large, fluffy white pillow. His small ears, his tiny nose, his closed eyes, which looked no bigger than marbles, and his petite mouth, slightly open because of his difficulty in breathing, did make him seem like a fragile toy.

His cheeks were scarlet from his fever and his lips looked a little puffy. His hands were cupped into tiny fists, but the rest of his body was buried under the enormous down comforter. I stood by the side of his bed watching him. I didn't want to wake him. Suddenly he started to mumble in his fevered sleep.

"Daddy wake up, wake up," he said. Then with his eyes still closed, he grimaced. "Tony . . . Tony." His face twisted in agony. I went to him and took his tiny, warm hand into mine.

"It's all right, Troy. It's all right. I'm here."

"Tony . . . I want Tony. . . ."

"It's Leigh, Troy. Do you want me to get you a drink of water?"

"Tony," he muttered and shook his head. Then he squeezed his eyes closed even tighter as if he were trying to deny a picture in his mind. I touched his flushed cheek and became shocked and frightened by how hot his skin really was. It made my heart pound. I looked expectantly at the doorway. Where was the doctor? How could they leave him alone like this, even for a moment?

He swung his head from side to side, moaning softly.

"Troy," I cried, tears coming into my eyes. "Oh, my God," I whispered. I flew out of the room to find Mrs. Hastings. She and the doctor were downstairs talking softly with Curtis and Miles.

"Doctor, he's burning up in his bed! And he's moaning like he's in pain!" I exclaimed. The doctor looked at me and then at Mrs. Hastings, wondering who I was. She whispered something quickly in his ear.

"Oh." He nodded and turned to me. "Yes, we know, my dear. We have just decided that we will not wait for an ambulance. We are going to take Troy to the hospital in the limousine immediately. Mrs. Hastings was just going up to prepare him for the trip."

"Can I help?"

"No, I think it's best you just stay a good distance away. Don't want to, have two patients to rush off," he said smiling. How could he joke at a time like this? I thought. Mrs. Hastings started up the stairs. I was so fidgety and nervous, I could do nothing but wait and watch. A little while later, Miles emerged from Troy's suite with Troy bundled up in blankets, his pinkish face barely visible, and carried him toward the stairs. Mrs. Hastings followed close behind, saying, "Oh dear me, dear me."

It was hours before Miles and Mrs. Hastings returned, but the moment I heard them enter, I came running.

"It is definitely pneumonia," Mrs. Hastings declared, her lips trembling. She started to sob. "He's under oxygen. It's such a pathetic sight. Oh dear, dear."

I tried to comfort her.

"You should have something to eat, something hot to drink, Mrs. Hastings, and stop blaming yourself. It's no one's fault."

"Yes," she said. "Something hot to drink," she muttered. "You're so right. Thank you, dear." She went off to the kitchen.

"How is he really, Miles?" I asked. Somehow I knew he would tell me the cold truth.

"His fever is very, very high. Troy has a history of sickness and poor resistance. I'm afraid there is serious concern."

My heart sank. I could feel the blood rushing to my face. My butterflies exploded in a mad frenzy in my stomach, circling and circling, the tips of their paper-thin wings tickling my insides.

"You don't mean he could die, do you, Miles?" I held my breath to hear his reply.

"It's very serious, Miss," he said and gazed at his watch. "I have to be off to the airport. Mr. and Mrs. Tatterton will be arriving soon. I imagine I'll take them directly to the hospital," he added.

"Poor Tony and Momma. They'll be so shocked," I said. He nodded and left quickly.

I spent the rest of the afternoon waiting in trepidation. Every time I heard a phone ringing my heart stopped. None of the calls had anything to do with Troy, however. Unable to wait any longer, I had Mrs. Hastings call the hospital and ask the nurse on Troy's floor for an update. There had been no improvement. In fact, I gathered from the way Mrs. Hastings listened and nodded, her eyes widening, her mouth collapsing, that if anything, he was a little worse.

Finally, I heard a commotion at the front entrance and came out of the music room to see Momma making a grand entrance: servants carrying in luggage, and she shouting orders and complaining to Curtis about the cold weather and the long trip, Tony wasn't with her.

"MOMMA!" I shouted. "THANK GOD, YOU'RE BACK!"

"Amen to that," Momma said and followed it with a thin, long laugh. She pulled off her gloves. Even though she was complaining about the cold and the trip, she looked fresh and beautiful. She had bright, rosy cheeks and wore a new black sable hat and a matching sable coat with black velvet gloves and ski pants. Gold drop earrings dangled from her ears. She stepped aside so Miles could bring in the ski equipment.