Uncle Philip, still in his pajamas, was in the hallway, his hair disheveled. He looked confused and sleepy and yawned hard and loud. He scrubbed his face with his palms and went to Melanie's doorway.
"What is it? What's all the noise?" he demanded.
"She's as white as a ghost and so is Richard. Go look at him," Aunt Bet cried from inside. "They've been poisoned!" she added.
"What? That's ridiculous," Uncle Philip said. He turned and saw me standing there. "Oh, Christie." He smiled. "I'm sorry they woke you."
"What's happening, Uncle Philip?" I asked.
"I don't know. It's always like this," he said. "When one of the twins gets sick, the other one inevitably does too. It's as if every germ that attacks them has a twin in waiting," he added, still smiling. Then he went into Jefferson and Richard's room. I went to the doorway of Melanie's room and peered in.
Aunt Bet was sitting on the bed, holding a cold washcloth on Melanie's forehead. Melanie groaned beneath her and clutched her stomach.
"I've got to go again," she cried.
"Oh dear me, dear me," Aunt Bet said, standing to get out of her way. Melanie shot off the bed and, bent over and still clutching her stomach, hurried toward the doorway and the bathroom. I stepped out of her way.
"What is it?" I asked when she rushed past me and lunged into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her.
"What is it? They were poisoned by something rotten, I'm sure," Aunt Bet said. "That . . . that incompetent cook and maid . . ."
"Mrs. Boston? You can't believe Mrs. Boston did something wrong. Mrs. Boston is a wonderful cook."
"Humph," she said, pulling her narrow, bony shoulders back. She walked past me and went to Richard. I could hear his groans. Uncle Philip emerged, a look of disgust and fatigue on his face.
"We all ate the same things, Uncle Philip," I said. "None of the rest of us are sick. The twins must have eaten something else on their own," I added.
"I don't know. I don't know," he chanted and went to call the doctor. I returned to my bedroom and crawled in beside Jefferson, who had already fallen back to sleep. Less than an hour later, the doctor arrived. After he examined the twins, I heard him step into the hallway with Aunt Bet and prescribe some medicine and bed rest and then leave. Shortly afterward, Aunt Bet came to my bedroom door.
"Christie," she said, "please have Jefferson sleep in Melanie's room for a few days. I don't want him to be contaminated and it will be easier for me if the twins are in the same room."
"What's wrong with them?"
"It could be some kind of a food poisoning or some stomach virus," she explained and twisted her mouth up in disgust.
"It must be a virus. I don't feel bad and neither does Jefferson."
"Even if it was a virus, they contracted it because things aren't kept clean enough around here, especially in the kitchen. You two were just lucky," she replied. "Somehow," she added and left.
Later that morning when Jefferson and I went down for breakfast, we found only Uncle Philip at the table reading the paper. He smiled and said good morning as if it were just any other morning.
"Where's Aunt Bet?" I asked.
"She brought some tea and toast up to the twins. She will nurse them back to health in no time all by herself. She always does. Anyway, I'm glad you two are fine," he added.
"There's no reason for us not to be," I said sharply. He nodded and went back to his paper.
Mrs. Boston emerged from the kitchen with our hot food. She looked very unhappy and very angry. I never saw her mouth so tight.
"How are your stomachs this morning?" she asked Jefferson and me.
"Fine, Mrs. Boston," I replied.
"Thought so," she said with satisfaction and pulled her shoulders back, but Uncle Philip kept reading as if he hadn't heard a word. Mrs. Boston went back into the kitchen and didn't come out again. I had promised Jefferson I would take him for a walk on the beach to look for seashells after breakfast, so we went upstairs to get him a light jacket. I knocked on his bedroom door and then poked my head in to see if it would be all right for me to go get the jacket from his closet.
Aunt Bet had taken a seat between the two beds. She sat there holding Richard's hand in her right hand and Melanie's in her left. The twins had their blankets up to their chins and their eyes closed.
"Shh," Aunt Bet said. "They're finally asleep."