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."
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 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.
"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.
"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."