"You said, yesterday, I could have her for the Men's Ward," replied Aunt
Jane. She was looking critically at the spot on his vest and he drew his
coat quickly together.
"That was yesterday," he said gruffly. "I can't spare her now."
Aunt Jane sighed. "It doesn't seem right for one person to have
everything."
"He'll have to have things--for a while," replied Dr. Carmon. "He'll
have to have what he wants--till I find out what's wrong with him.... He
wants Miss Canfield--and I can't take the risk of having him upset!" He
spoke a little brusquely at the end.
Aunt Jane's feathers ruffled themselves. "I don't know what call he has
to expect to have any particular nurse!" she said. "We shall take good
care of him, whatever nurse he has!"
"Yes--yes--of course." Dr. Carmon was testy and placating. "But I told
him he could have Miss Canfield--till he was out of bed--and she'll have
to stay."
"You told him--he could have Miss Canfield!" Aunt Jane's eye held
something and looked at it. "When did you tell him that?" she asked at
last, letting it go.
"I told him yesterday--when you sent for me.
"After the widow was here?"
"Yes." He looked at her. "Anything wrong about that?" Dr. Carmon was not
in his best humor. He felt Aunt Jane's eye boring through to the
offending spot and there was subtle disapproval in her manner--something
he did not quite fathom. "She'll have to stay!" he said--and the tone
was final.
Aunt Jane's only reply was a little chuckling laugh.
He glared at her and went out.
Her smile followed him from the room. She went over to the window. From
the next room came the sound of voices--Miss Canfield's low and
quieting, and Herman Medfield's expostulating and fretful--and then
silence.
Aunt Jane went across and opened the door. She looked in on Herman
Medfield. He was lying with his eyes closed and an almost peaceful
expression on his countenance. Miss Canfield was not in the room.
He opened his eyes and saw Aunt Jane and closed them quickly. His face
changed subtly and swiftly to mild distress.
Aunt Jane came leisurely in.
The eyes did not open or respond to her questioning look.
She sat down by the bed.
"Good morning," he said feebly.
Aunt Jane smiled. "I didn't think it was good--not very good--not from
what Dr. Carmon told me," she said slowly.
Medfield sighed. "Some pain," he admitted. He turned his head
restlessly.
"Well, we must expect _some_ pain." Her voice was as big and breezy as
all outdoors.
Medfield's face relaxed under it--to a kind of meek patience.
Aunt Jane watched it kindly.
"What you need, Mr. Medfield, is a good wife----"
The eyes flew open--and stared--and closed again quickly.
She nodded. "That's what I've been thinking--some one that has sense and
can do things--not just talk about 'em."
He smiled faintly. "I'm taken very good care of," he replied politely.
"I couldn't ask for better care than I've had here." The eyes closed
themselves again.
"Yes--Miss Canfield's a good nurse." She was watching the face and the
closed eyes. "She takes good care--and she's got sense.... What I was
thinking was, that you could go home now--if you had somebody to go with
you to look after you and take interest--if you had a wife."
"I'm not well enough," interposed Medfield quickly.
"Oh, yes--you're well enough, I guess."
"The doctor said I was to stay in bed!" His defense was almost spirited.
"You and Julian could go together," went on Aunt Jane ignoring it.
"_He'll_ look after you some."
Medfield groaned. And Aunt Jane reached out a hand to his forehead. Her
cool touch rested on it.
"Your head feels all right," she said, smoothing it slowly.
The little wrinkles went out of Medfield's brow and Aunt Jane watched it
relax.
"Better tell me all about it," she said gently. "You'll feel better to
get it off your mind, maybe."
"I _don't_ feel well, you know." It was almost apologetic.
"No--and next thing you know, you'll be down sick--just pretending....
I've been thinking about it," she said slowly. "Ever since you were took
down yesterday--but I didn't sense what was the matter--not till this
morning."
"You don't know now!" Herman Medfield's tone was guilty and a little
apprehensive.
Aunt Jane smiled. "Yes, I reckon I see it just about the way it
is--now.... You don't _want_ to get well--not yet."
"No." He admitted it feebly.
"And you don't want we should take Miss Canfield off your case."
He said nothing.
"Well, we're not going to take her off."
His face brightened a little.
Aunt Jane laughed softly. "That's right! You can chirk up--all you want
to!... You _do_ need a good wife--much as anybody ever I see."
He opened his lips--and stared at her--and closed them. "I--I believe I
do!" His eyes rested on the fresh childlike color in Aunt Jane's face
and the little lines that twinkled at him.
"I believe I do!" he repeated softly.