Herman Medfield, wrapped in a dark-blue quilted gown, was sitting in the
sunny window that looked down into the back yards.... He remembered the
day--only three weeks ago, was it--that he had watched the servant-girl
hanging sheets on the line. He remembered how strong her arms were as
she swung the sheets on the line.... He looked down into the yard. She
was there now--singing just as she had then; the window was open and her
voice came drifting in with the scent of the flowers that grew down by
the fence.
He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. He was tired; more
tired than he had thought he should be. Sitting in bed, he had felt
strong--almost well. And he had demanded his clothes.
"We'll let you wear a dressing-gown the first day or two," Aunt Jane had
said with a twinkle. "You've got a real pretty silk one, I see."
So she had brought out the quilted gown and laid it on the bed; and he
had dressed slowly and come out here to the sunny sitting-room, where
the big chair was drawn up in the window.
He had looked down into the yard, with a feeling of strangeness and
newness, and had wondered a little whether it was the change in the
foliage that made the yard look different, or whether the change was in
Herman Medfield's eyes.
Then he had closed his eyes and leaned back.... Perhaps he had slept a
little--with the fresh air coming in and the girl's voice singing and
the sound of doves cooing from a roof near by--for when he opened his
eyes again, Julian was sitting at the desk, writing.
He looked up and encountered his father's gaze and came over to the
window.
"How are you feeling, Dad?"
"First-rate. It seems good to get on my legs again." He was looking
eagerly at the boy, taking in his fresh young strength.... It had been
several days since Julian came; but Herman Medfield was not yet used to
his being there, or to the little proud feeling that came over him as he
looked at this young man who was his son. He had never thought Julian
was handsome. But something seemed to have happened to him.... He
carried himself more like a man; and there was a look behind the lines
of his face.... He thought of the boy's mother, as he watched it....
Europe had brought out the best that was in him. It had been a wise
move--sending him off like that, to get him out of Mrs. Cawein's way....
And then it came to him that Julian was looking even better than the day
he arrived.... Perhaps, after all, he was fond of his old dad! They had
had many talks together--and had sat silent for long spaces of quiet;
and the boy came and went as if his father's room were home to him.
Every one in the hospital had come to know the quick step and light
figure and the laugh that ran through the hall.... He went across the
town to the vacant house to sleep. But his meals were served with his
father's--when he could persuade Aunt Jane to send them in--and when he
could not coax her to send in the extra tray, he went to a restaurant
near by.
Aunt Jane and he had been friends from the minute he held out his hand
to her, and she had taken it in hers and patted it and looked at him out
of her muslin cap. "You're just the age of my boy," she had said,
looking at him. "I always wonder what he'd be doing now--if I could see
him."
And the young man had reached up an arm--before she could catch the
meaning of his look--and thrown it around her neck and kissed her, just
under the muslin border of her cap. "I guess that's what he would do
first," he said. And Aunt Jane's eyes had filled with quick tears as she
turned away.
"That's great foolishness!" she had said softly.
But the boy had won his place; and he was always asking for her when he
came. She appeared now in the doorway with a card in her hand--looking
at it doubtfully. Her glance ran to the figure in the window in its
stately dressing-gown, and returned again to the little black-edged
card.
The young man's eye fell on it and his eyebrows lifted a trifle. He came
over.
"For me?" He held out his hand.
She ignored the hand and passed on to the millionaire, extending the
card. Her face was impersonal and severe.
The boy's quick laugh broke across it.
"Caught, Dad!" he chuckled, looking at the card.
The millionaire glanced down and his face darkened.
"Tell her I cannot--" He stopped abruptly-- Suppose she had heard that
the boy was home! His father's room was the best place for him--and for
her to see him! He sighed and laid down the card.
"Very well. Tell her to come in."
The young man watched her go, and laughed out and then chuckled softly;
his father smiled grimly.
The door opened and the widow entered. She was dark, with a white throat
and white hands and bewildering bits of jet that twinkled as she moved.
They tinkled softly as she came in.
Aunt Jane, following discreetly, closed the door behind her and went to
a table across the room.
The widow stood looking at the two men with a charming smile.
Julian came forward. "How do you do, Mrs. Cawein?" he was holding out
his hand and smiling.
"How-de-do, Julie!" She touched the hand lightly and fluttered by him
toward the chair in the window-- "And how is the dear man!" she cried.
Julian, the little smile still on his lips, watched the comedy. Aunt
Jane from across the room regarded it mildly.