the cards aunt jane had taken from the boxes of flowers remained untouched in her apron pocket.
she had intended to take them to herman medfield at once. but the days that followed the flowers in the children's ward had been busy ones. serious cases had come in and dr. carmon's face had been severe and a little anxious. no one would have guessed from its puckered gaze as he looked at aunt jane and gave minute directions for the case in room 18 that he had ever seen the correct muslin cap except as it looked now, framing her serene face.
he gazed at it absently and fussed at his pocket and took out his notes and consulted them. "i am to be sent for, you understand, if there is the slightest change!" he looked at her severely.
"we'll send for you," said aunt jane quietly, "same as we always do."
[pg 123]
there was a tap on the office door and she went leisurely across to open it.
it was the laundress with three cards in her wet thumb. she half drew back as she caught a glimpse of dr. carmon's bulky form.
"i found 'em in the pocket of your apron," she announced in a stage whisper. "they got a little mite wet, but i dried 'em off."
aunt jane received the cards and returned to dr. carmon.
he glanced at them inquiringly.
"some cards that came with flowers." she laid them on her desk.
"somebody been sending you flowers!" he relaxed a little over the joke.
"mr. medfield's flowers," said aunt jane tranquilly.
his pencil stopped and he regarded the cards stiffly.
"how many cards does he send you with flowers?" he asked.
aunt jane smiled. "he didn't send them. they came with some flowers for him."
"umph!" dr. carmon's pencil went on with its notes. when he had gone and aunt jane was alone in the office—she took up the[pg 124] cards and looked at them. she might take them up to mr. medfield now, before dinner—there would be time.
herman medfield had summoned aunt jane several times during the hurried days, and she had sent back word each time that she would come when she was not so busy.
she smiled a little as she looked down at the cards. she could see him, fuming and giving instructions that she was to come at once, and miss canfield's face as she took the message.
she put the cards in her pocket and went along the hall to suite a.
herman medfield propped up in bed, surrounded by books and papers, looked up with a little scowling frown.
aunt jane glanced at it and crossed the room. she gathered up the books and papers from the bed and carried them to the table and laid them down. "i guess you won't want these any more, will you? it's most dinner-time."
she sat down by him.
his face relaxed. "i haven't seen you for four days," he remarked dryly.
[pg 125]
"i've been busy," returned aunt jane. "a good many folks suffering."
he was silent. she watched the face with a shrewd, kindly smile.
"you hadn't thought as anybody could suffer, maybe—anybody except you?"
"no—i hadn't thought of anything." he looked ashamed, but he held his point. "i've suffered—horribly!" he said.
"i thought likely you would." aunt jane was placid.
he stared.
"you're the kind that's liable to suffer," she said slowly, "—all sort o' tewed up inside.... that kind has to suffer a good deal."
he looked down at his hands. probably no one had ever spoken to herman medfield just as aunt jane was speaking.
she held the cards toward him—the black-edged one on top. "they came in your flower-boxes."
he took them without seeing them. then he glanced at the black one and pushed them away.
"the same one that came before—isn't it?" remarked aunt jane serenely.
[pg 126]
"yes."
"i thought it was the same name. the flowers were nice that came with it—roses—red ones."
he was silent.
"i gave susie cannon a bunch of them to take home with her. her folks drink—both of 'em."
he stared at her. then his face smiled a little. "it's a new cure for the drink habit, isn't it—red roses?" he laughed a little cynically.
aunt jane regarded him impartially.
"your folks didn't ever any of 'em drink, did they?"
"you mean—?" his face was politely puzzled.
"get drunk, i mean— you don't come of a drinking family, do you?"
"no." his eyes were still a little amused.
"i reckoned not. steve cannon does—and his wife drinks. they'd broke susie's arm between 'em. so she came to us."
he was looking at her thoughtfully. "how old is she?"
"three," said aunt jane, "three—going on four."
[pg 127]
"good god!"
she nodded. "yes, he's good. but somebody's got to look after susie."
he waited a minute. then he spoke, almost hesitatingly. "i don't suppose that money would do—any good?"
she shook her head. "i don't know what'll do good. dr. carmon's got to find out and do it. he generally does—when things get too bad."
there was a knock on the door.
"your dinner, i guess," said aunt jane.
but it was preston—with a box. when he saw medfield's eyes he half retreated. aunt jane held out her hand.
"i'll take care of it," she said. she laid it on her lap. "miss canfield said you wasn't having 'em brought here any more.... i guess preston made a mistake, maybe."
"i 'guess' he did," replied medfield. his eye was on the box, balefully.
aunt jane took it up and undid it slowly. when she looked in she smiled. she took out a black-edged card and handed it to him. "she's sent another one!"
he groaned softly.
"i don't know what we'll do—if they keep[pg 128] coming in like this," she was fingering the blossoms tranquilly and looking at them.
he lay back on his pillows. "that's your affair!" he smiled more cheerfully. "you said i should not be bothered!" he closed his eyes.
"the children's ward is full," said aunt jane thoughtfully. "it's a regular flower-garden—every bed a posy-bed." she laughed comfortably and looked at him. "you'd ought to have seen the way they looked when they got your flowers. they were tickled most to death with 'em!"
"i am glad they enjoyed them," said medfield tamely.
"i felt as if it was 'most a pity they couldn't know you sent 'em," she added.
he started a little and aunt jane put out a hand. "don't you worry, mr. medfield. i didn't tell 'em. i just said it was a man—by the name of 'herman'.... but maybe you'll get it, all the same."
he stared at her. "get—it?"
she nodded. "they'll be thinking about that mr. herman—and kind of talking about him and loving him.... i reckon it'll do[pg 129] him good—whoever he is." she was looking at 'mr. herman' in space, regarding him with kindly gaze.
medfield smiled grimly. "i don't suppose you know what it is—not to want any one to know who you are?"
she looked at him. "i should hate terribly not to have folks know i'm jane holbrook!"
she was thoughtful a minute. "seems as if it wouldn't be me—not more than half me—if folks didn't know i was aunt jane!" she was looking at him questioningly.
he shook his head.
"you've never been in my place." the words were dry.
"no.... i have a good many things to be thankful for," she added impersonally.
his eyes were looking at something before him and there was a little hard smile in their gaze. "let some of them try it awhile," he said, as if answering an accusation. "let them try!" he turned to her.
"i can't go in a street-car or a restaurant or a store in town—i can't walk along the street like other men—without being beset by people with axes to grind." he looked[pg 130] at aunt jane as if he thought she might have an axe concealed somewhere about her person. "they carry them around with them in their pockets," he said savagely, "ready the minute they see me coming down the street. they line up with them and wait for me to appear. the minute a man hears my name, he doesn't think of me—he's thinking what he can get out of me." his mouth set itself close. "i'm not a man—i'm money!"
aunt jane's look was full of twinkling sympathy that went out to him. "it's a pity you didn't think about that sooner, wasn't it?"
he stared.
"you might 'a' give away most of it—if you'd thought in time."
the stare broke. "you think it is easy, don't you?" he scoffed.
her face grew sober. "no, i don't think it's easy.... money seems to stick to folks' fingers—kind o' glues 'em together, i guess."
he rubbed his thin fingers absently and looked down at them.
"it seems to me i could find a way, but i suppose i should be just like the rest, if i[pg 131] had it—holding on to it for dear life!" she smiled at him.
he was silent a minute, looking before him. "sometimes i think i would give every dollar i have in the world," he said slowly—"to have some one think of me apart from my money!" he looked at the face in its muslin cap. he knew he had never spoken to any one as he was speaking to aunt jane. he had a sense of freeing himself from something.
he watched the face in its cap.... "i don't suppose any one can understand—" he broke off with a sigh.
"yes, i understand, i guess." she was looking down at the box of flowers in her lap. "we all have our besetting sins. i have 'em! i guess money's a kind of besetting sin!"
