The nurse who was bending over Herman Medfield, tucking the napkin into
his coat, saw a quick flush come in the thin face. She seemed not to
notice it as she placed the tray before him.
"Shall I cut your meat?"
"Yes--please."
He watched the efficient fingers cut the juicy steak in strips and he
glanced at the face bending above the tray. The reddish hair drawn
trimly up under the cap and the look of competence in the face and in
the firm hands.
She gave him the knife and fork and glanced at the tray. "You have
everything you need? Here's your bell."
She placed the cord where he could reach it and turned away.
But Herman Medfield's look stayed her. "You didn't know my name was
Herman, did you?" He said it with a little quizzical smile.
"I thought it was Medfield," replied the girl. She looked at him with
clear, straight eyes. "The flowers come to Herman Medfield."
"That was a mistake," he said. "They got it wrong when I came--on the
books--And it was in the papers, I suppose.... It's quite a joke that I
should have had all Herman Medfield's flowers." He chuckled a little.
"He's a distant relative of mine--Herman Medfield-- But quite a
different sort of man," he added quietly. "I don't see any salt
here----"
She glanced quickly at the tray and went out to bring the salt.
He smiled at his dinner blandly and began to eat. He would get rid of
the incubus of Herman Medfield's money for a while--and see how it felt.
His whole body relaxed as the weight of Herman Medfield went sliding
from his shoulders.... No more suspicions, no more watching while people
talked to him, for the inevitable money to crop up, or for some
philanthropic scheme to put its hand in his pocket, on the sly.... They
seemed to think, if a man had money, that he doted on orphan asylums and
libraries and dormitories! He wished, fervently, that he might never
hear of another college or foundation, or any sort of institution for
doing good. He longed to be rid of it all. He wanted to be like other
men--a human being--for a month, for six weeks.... He began to wonder
how long a patient could stay in the Berkeley House of Mercy--how sick
he had to be?... They shouldn't turn him out _too_ soon. He could invent
an ache or two. He would take a long vacation from his money.
Miss Canfield brought the salt. She looked at his face as she put it
down. "You're feeling better, aren't you?" she said.
He relaxed the cheerful look. "A little better," he admitted. "Some pain
still."
She smiled. It was only in the Children's Ward that they were glad to
let the pains go--that they ignored them or forgot them as quickly as
they could.... Men were all alike--men and women were the same in
cherishing their pains and the memory of their pains--women a little
more reluctant than men, perhaps, to see them go. Men were more like
children.
This gray-haired man, eating his dinner happily, was a little like a
child, she thought as she watched him. He seemed to have grown
younger--even in a day.... It was curious they should have got his name
wrong on the books.... It was probably because of the aristocratic look.
He was a very stately figure, leaning back there against the pillows, in
his embroidered Chinese coat, with his gray hair and little pointed
beard.... She turned to go.
"Won't you sit down? Can't you stay?" said Medfield politely.
"There's another patient waiting. They've put me on double special since
you are better." She nodded to him and went out.
He watched her go, almost regretfully. It was wonderful what a
difference it made, wanting to have people around--now that money could
not get between.... He would have liked to talk with the girl. Ask her
about her family and how she came to be a nurse. He wondered what sort
of a home a girl like that had come out of, and what she expected to do.
More than once, as he had watched her moving about the room, absorbed in
her work, he had thought of Julian.... It occurred to him to wonder what
Julian would be like now. He had not seen the boy for two years--not
since he sent him off to Europe. He glanced a little resentfully at the
black-edged card lying on the stand beside him.... If it had not been
for Julia Cawein and her airs and fascinations, the boy would be here
now.
His thought recurred to the girl who had just left him. He had never
seen any one work just the way she worked--as if she loved it. She moved
quietly and easily, as if there were plenty of time to do all that must
be done in the day.... She would make a good wife for some man.... And
it suddenly struck him that a rich young fellow would be lucky to marry
a girl like that.... He wondered when Julian would be coming home.