"mr. medfield is asking for you again," said miss canfield.
aunt jane, coming out of the children's ward, stopped and looked at the nurse and smiled. "i suppose he's fussing and tewing a good deal?" she asked.
"he is," admitted miss canfield.
"well, i'll be in by and by. you can tell him i'm coming."
she went leisurely on. when she had made the rounds of the top floor and had descended to the office and entered a few items in her day-book and given directions for linen and had a conference with the cook, she turned toward suite a.
she knocked on the outer door, and bent her head a little to listen—and as she listened she had a sudden sense of the room on the other side of the door—she saw it lying in the darkness, and she heard the rooster's clear, shrill call through the window, and saw the straight[pg 102] form on the bed. it all came before her and vanished as she put her hand on the door and knocked.
"come in!" the voice was sharp and a little imperious.
aunt jane opened the door.
a burst of light and color greeted her. the shades were rolled to the tops of the windows. and there were flowers everywhere.... roses on the table, a great bunch of carnations on the desk, violets on the stand at the head of herman medfield's bed, foxgloves and snapdragons filling the window-sill and spilling over into the room. it was a riot of color; and in the midst of it, propped on his pillows on the high white bed, the millionaire looked out with a scowl.
he wore an embroidered chinese shoulder coat of blue and gold; and his hair, carefully combed, stood up a little on his forehead. the vandyke beard was clipped to a point.
"you look pretty as a picture," said aunt jane cheerfully.
the scowl deepened a little—then it broke. "will you sit down?" said medfield politely.
aunt jane drew up a chair.
[pg 103]
he watched her descend into it and his brow cleared. "i have been wanting to see you."
aunt jane nodded. "i've been meaning to come. there's a good many things to do in a hospital." the chair adjusted itself—"was it anything in particular you wanted to ask me about?"
the millionaire's eyes had been resting on the quiet face. they turned away, a little startled. "why—um—yes! i was thinking—i was thinking—" his eyes fell on the roses and he swept a hand toward them. "these flowers—all of them!" he said.
aunt jane turned a little in her chair and beamed. "they look nice, don't they?"
"they're well enough," said medfield grudgingly. then—with petulance: "i'm tired of them. i want them taken away—all of them!"
"sick folks get notions," said aunt jane placidly. "where shall i take 'em to?"
"why, take them—" he looked about impatiently. "take them where you usually take flowers!"
"we generally take them to the folks they're sent to." she leaned forward to the violets[pg 104] and touched them with cool, gentle fingers, looking at them kindly.
"there's something about violets makes me think of home places," she said.
"would you like them?" said herman medfield. he was watching the cool, firm fingers with a quiet look—almost a pleasant look.
"me?—mercy, no!" the fingers withdrew to her lap. "you couldn't send 'em to me. i'm here."
"yes, you are here—that's so!" he almost smiled at her. his eyes returned to the fingers resting in her lap. "i have not had a chance to thank you—for your great kindness the other night."
"you are welcome," said aunt jane.
"it wasn't any great kindness," she added after a minute, "i always do for folks that need me."
"i suppose you know—" he stopped a moment, as if he could not quite speak of the thing that was in his mind. "i think you made me—come back," he said slowly.
"it makes a difference whether somebody cares," admitted aunt jane.
[pg 105]
"did you care?" the sharp, pointed face was turned to her. "did you care—!"
"yes, i cared," said aunt jane.
"but—" he looked at her, bewildered, and was silent—looking before him.
aunt jane regarded him and smiled. "there didn't seem to be anybody but me—to care," she said cheerfully.
"no—there wasn't."
"but i see now that there's a good many of them—" she motioned to the flowers. "i don't know as i ever see anybody have more flowers the first week."
"flowers don't care—the people those came from don't care!"
the tone was scornful, almost bitter.
"don't they!" she beamed on the flowers. "somehow i can't ever believe flowers don't mean what they look," she said thoughtfully.
"these don't!" his little cynical smile rested on them. "those roses there—they must have cost ten dollars at least——"
"i never saw bigger ones," assented aunt jane.
"my partner's widow sent them.... she sent them for business."
[pg 106]
"did she!" aunt jane looked at the roses with interest.
"mere business!" said medfield. "and the carnations on the desk there—are from the men in the office——"
"there's always something fresh about carnations." she got up leisurely and went over to them and lifted the vase and brought it to him.
"just smell of those!" she held them out. "aren't they just about the freshest things you ever smelled!"
he sniffed at them reluctantly and motioned them aside.
"and those foxgloves there——"
he was talking out all the bitterness that had been in him as he had lain and watched the great boxes opened and the flowers ranged about him—"exactly as if i were a funeral!" he finished up at last.
aunt jane smiled to him. "what would you like me to do with them for you?" she asked tranquilly.
"do whatever you like. i don't care!" his indifference had returned and he looked tired.
[pg 107]
she leaned forward a little. "i'm going to take out that head-rest," she said, "so's you can lie down."
she removed the frame from behind the pillows and shook them a little and let them gently back. "there—now you can lie down and have a good rest; and pretty quick now you're going to have some broth and then you'll go to sleep.... it don't do any good to get stirred up over folks' flowers," she said quietly.
"no." there was a little smile on his lips. he looked up at her, almost like a boy, from his pillow. "but it did me good to tell you!"
"i reckoned it would," said aunt jane. "now i'll go get your broth for you."
she disappeared from the room and herman medfield's eyes closed—and opened again to find her standing beside him, the cup of broth in her hand.
she gave it to him through the crooked tube and watched the liquid lower in the cup with benignant eye.
"just a little mite more," she said as he turned away his head—"just a mite. there! you've done first-rate!"
[pg 108]
she set the cup on the stand.
"now i'm going to take all these flowers—" she gathered the carnations in her hands as she spoke: "i was thinking about it whilst i was heating your broth for you—i'm going to take them up to the children's ward. they'll be happy enough—when they see 'em!" she held the flowers at arm's length and looked at them with pleased eyes. he watched her with a faint smile and a look almost of interest.
"and i'm going to tell them that mr. medfield sent them——"
he raised a quick hand. "no——!"
she turned in surprise. "don't you want me to tell them?"
"no."
he waited a minute.
"you can say a man sent them."
"yes, i can say that—" aunt jane's face cleared. "i see how 'tis— you don't want them to know about you—who you are."
"no." he was looking almost embarrassed.
she considered it a minute. "what is your first name?" she asked.
he cleared his throat like a boy. "herman,"[pg 109] he said meekly. "herman g. medfield."
aunt jane smiled. "i remember about it now—'herman,'" she said it softly, as if it pleased her. "herman— that'll do! we don't need the g.—just herman.... i'll tell them mr. herman sent them." she smiled at him cheerfully.
"very well."
aunt jane went over to the window and gathered up the foxgloves—as many as her hands could hold—and turned to the door.
"i'll come back for the rest."
but the door had opened and the white-coated boy was standing, holding out three large boxes and grinning pleasantly.
herman medfield, from his pillow, groaned.
aunt jane glanced toward him with reassurance in her look—"i shall take them all— you don't need to worry. you won't be bothered. you go get the wheel-tray, preston, and we'll take 'em all at once."
they filled the cart—the three great boxes underneath and the loose flowers on top covering them and trailing over the sides and ends: and preston wheeled it out the door.
[pg 110]
aunt jane, still with her hands full of blossoms, looked back with a smile. "now you'll rest comfortable," she said.
