Winifred moved with surprising quickness for a woman given to measured, dignified movement. She caught her son's under the elbow to direct him back to his bed with gentle scolding but for once he ignored her efforts. Shaking her head wryly, she steadied him as he stubbornly crossed the room to sink down on the edge of Narcissa's bed.
"Cissy," he said softly, raising her hand to press it to his cheek.