"Yes, I know. I saw him. He got here the same time I did--in his
motor-car."
"In his motor-car--that's it! Well--" Aunt Jane smiled. "_He's_ going to
pay Dr. Carmon--for your operation."
"Why--!" The little woman gasped. "He don't have any reason to pay for
_me_!"
"Well--" Aunt Jane rocked, turning it over and making it up as she went
along: "Well-- He's rich. He has a plenty-- And he won't be comfortable
without." She spoke with conviction.
"But he don't know me," said the woman. "Unless maybe he knows John!"
she added thoughtfully.
"That's it," Aunt Jane responded. "Maybe he knows 'John.' Anyway he's
going to pay." She touched a bell.
"Well--" The woman looked down at the hands in her lap, the fingers were
working in and out. "I'm sure I don't know how to thank him!" she said.
She looked up. Her eyes were full of tears. She brushed a quick hand
across them. "I don't know how!" she said softly.
"You don't need to thank him," replied Aunt Jane. "He won't expect any
thanks, I guess."
A nurse stood in the door. Aunt Jane's hand motioned to the woman. "This
is Mrs. Pelton. She's going to be in Room 5. Take good care of her."
The nurse held out her hand with a smile. And the little woman got up.
"I've got a bag here somewhere--? That's it--yes. Thank you! I seem all
kind of upset, somehow. I didn't know a hospital would be like this!"
Aunt Jane watched her with a smile as she went from the room. There was
a gentle look in her eyes. Then she got up, with the card in her hand,
and moved toward the front room. She had become serene and austere.
A tall, thin man rose courteously. "I am Dr. Carmon's patient. I
understand a room has been reserved for me?" He looked up.
"There's a room, yes," admitted Aunt Jane.
The man's face waited. There was astonishment and a little amusement
under its polite gaze.
Aunt Jane rang the bell.
"Won't you sit down," she indicated a chair.
"Thank you. I prefer to keep standing--while I can." He said it
smilingly.
If there was an undertone of appeal for sympathy in the words, Aunt
Jane's face ignored it. She turned to the nurse who entered.
"Show Mr.--?" She consulted the card in her hand with elaborate care.
"Mr.--? Medfield, yes, that's it--show Mr. Medfield to Suite A."
The man bowed and took his coat on his arm. The nurse led the way. And
Aunt Jane watched them from the room, holding the little card in her
hand.
A little later when she entered the name on the card in the hospital
register, she added something after it in tiny hieroglyphics that made
her smile as she closed the book and put it away on its shelf.