"That's right. Eat and sleep. And hope don't hurt--a little of it."
"Aunt Jane?" The voice had a sharp note. The invalid was resting against
the pillows that had been raised on the bed.
"Yes?" Aunt Jane turned back.
"Hasn't he been to see me--once--my husband?" There was a shamed,
half-imperious note in the words.
Aunt Jane sat down comfortably by the bed and looked at her. Then she
shook her head chidingly.... "I've never seen a sick person yet that
wasn't unreasonable," she said.
The woman's face relaxed. "I know," she said apologetically, "but when
one is sick the days are long."
"You told me, that was four-five days ago," said Aunt Jane, "that you
didn't want to see him or hear his name mentioned. At least, that's what
I understood."
The woman was not looking at her.
"So when he's been here, time and again--three times a day, some
days--I've told him you couldn't see anybody--not even your husband....
I thought that was what you wanted."
"Yes," said the woman faintly.
Aunt Jane nodded. "And now you're acting hurt and keeping yourself from
getting well."