Charles stood and headed for the door. “I can see that I have been summarily dismissed.”

“A half an hour!” Judith yelled at his retreating form.

He poked his head back in the doorway. “You, poppet, are a tyrant.”

“Charles,” Ellie said in her best mock-irritated voice, “Judith has requested a private audience.”

“Precocious brat,” he muttered.

“I heard that,” Judith said with a smile, “and it only means that you love me.”

“No fooling this one,” Ellie said, reaching out to tousle her hair, and then remembering that she couldn't.

“Watch out for your hands!” Charles ordered.

“Run along,” Ellie returned, unable to suppress a little chuckle at ordering him about.

They heard his grumbling all the way down the hall. Judith giggled into her hand the entire time.

“Very well, then,” Ellie said, “what did you need to talk with me about?”

“Charles's birthday celebration. Claire told Mama and me that you wanted to plan a party.”

“Oh yes, of course. I'm so glad you remembered. I'm afraid I won't be able to do much of the work, but I am quite excellent at ordering people about.”

Judith giggled. “No, I will be in charge.”

“May I be second in command, then?”

“Of course.”

“Then I suppose we have a deal,” Ellie said. “And since I cannot shake your hand, we will have to seal it with a kiss.”

“Done!” Judith crawled across the bed and gave Ellie a loud kiss on the cheek.

“Good. Now I just need to kiss you back, and then we can begin making our plans.”

Judith waited while Ellie kissed the top of her head and then said, “I think we should have Monsieur Belmont bake a big cake. Enormous! With butter-cream frosting.”

“Enormous, or merely huge?” Ellie asked with a smile.

“Enormous!” Judith yelled, waving her arms in the air to demonstrate. “And we can—”

“Ow!” Ellie yelped in pain as one of the little girl's hands connected with her own.

Judith immediately jumped off of the bed. “I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. It was an accident. I swear it.”

“I know,” Ellie said, gritting her teeth against the pain. “It's not a problem, poppet. Just get that bottle on the table and pour a little into the cup.”

“How much? This much?” Judith pointed with her finger to the middle of the cup, about a half a dose.

“No, half that,” Ellie replied. A quarter dose seemed the perfect compromise—enough to take the edge off the pain but hopefully not enough to make her drowsy and disoriented. “But don't tell Charles.”

“Why not?”

“Just don't.” And then she muttered, “I hate it when he's right.”

“I beg your pardon?”

Ellie drank from the cup Judith held to her mouth and said, “It's nothing. Now then, we have plans to make, don't we?”

They spent the next fifteen minutes on the grave topic of butter-cream frosting, arguing the merits of chocolate versus vanilla.

Later that day, Charles emerged through the connecting door between their rooms carrying a sheet of paper. “How are you feeling?” he inquired.