That was what came to Jo’s mind the instant she awakened, but she could not connect it to anything in particular, and as soon as she pushed back the covers, other thoughts battled for precedence—Chloë, Eric, and the humiliating prospect of having to defer to Waldo Bowman’s wishes as though he were her guardian. She hurried through her ablutions and minutes later entered Eric’s bedchamber. Her aunt was there, with her mending basket. Eric was asleep. Mrs. Daventry spoke in a soft undertone. “He was awake earlier and drank down two glasses of chocolate.” “Is that good for him?” “It won’t do him any harm, and I’m hoping when he wakens you’ll be able to tempt him to eat real food.” “Me?” Jo looked at her aunt. “What can I do?” “You’ve made a conquest there.” Mrs. Daventry chuckled. “All he can talk about is how you stood up to Mr. Harding. I must say, I was impressed too. I don’t think there’s anything Eric wouldn’t do to please you now.” Jo looked down at the sleeping boy and felt her heart clench.
