Maybe we should give Andrew a little test, just to make sure the fever didn't...

Maybe we should give Andrew a little test, just to make sure the fever didn't damage his brain."
"Don't be silly." Hannah tapped the rolled magazine on her knee as if she wanted to whack Edward even harder than she'd whacked Buster.
Looking at me, Edward went on with his game. "We'll start with easy questions. What year is it?"
Hannah protested, but I answered anyway. "1910."
Edward pressed on. "Who's the president?"
"For heaven's sake," Hannah said, "stop tormenting him, Edward." Dates, names, and faces tumbled through my head. Ulysses S. Grant? Woodrow Wilson? Chester Arthur? Arthur Chester? Teddy Roosevelt? I'd memorized the presidents for my fifth-grade teacher, but I couldn't remember them now.
"It's William Howard Taft," Theo shouted. "Everybody knows that."
"Andrew didn't," Edward said.
"Of course he did." Hannah patted my hand. "He's tired, that's all."
Refusing to give up, Edward folded his arms across his chest and grinned at me. "Let's see if you can answer this one. How many states are there?"
Without thinking, I said, "Fifty."
"Didn't I tell you he was touched in the head?" Edward laughed. "Even George Foster knows there's only forty-six states.