"You look happy," said Aunt Jane. "It's your afternoon off-- Maybe that
has something to do with it?" She surveyed her kindly.
"Perhaps." The girl hesitated a minute, turning over the towels
ineffectually--almost as if she did not see them. "I'm going out to Mr.
Medfield's garden," she said at last. She was examining the torn hem of
a towel with an absorbed look.
Aunt Jane accepted the news without surprise. "It's a nice garden, they
say.... He's given you permission, I suppose?"
"He wants me to go--yes.... He's making plans for some new roses and he
asked me to see where they are putting them." She did not look at the
face, across the table, that was surveying her shrewdly. "I can get back
in time," she added concisely--as if that were the main thing to be
considered.
"Oh, you'll get back, time enough--I 'most wish I was going with you,"
said Aunt Jane reflectively.
The girl looked up quickly and down again at her towels. "Mr. Medfield
is going--with me."
Aunt Jane's gaze remained in mid air--astonished and protesting. "He
can't sit up!"
"Oh--I didn't mean-- It's his son that is going."
"Oh--Julian!" Aunt Jane's tone was relieved. "Julian can go all right, I
guess.... He's a nice boy," she added impersonally.
Miss Canfield made no comment.
"They say it's about the prettiest garden anywhere round," added Aunt
Jane. "I've heard there's only one or two gardens to compare with it--as
beautiful as his."
"Yes, I've heard so."
"It's real kind in him to think of it--sending you out there.... He's a
good man," she added diplomatically. "He's cranky, but he's good!"
"He's an old dear!" said the girl heartily.
Aunt Jane stared. Her countenance was subdued. "Well--I don't know as I
should call him _old_!"... She considered it. "I don't believe he's a
day over fifty!" she concluded.
"I don't believe he is," assented Miss Canfield. "I should say that's
just about what he is--fifty." She gathered up the towels.
Aunt Jane's face was a study. It opened out in little lines of
protest--and closed slowly. "Fifty isn't so very old!" she finished
mildly.
"Of course not. And he's an active man--for his years." Miss Canfield
carried the pile of linen to the cupboard and stowed it away and came
back. "What shall I do with these?" She pointed to the discarded pile.
Aunt Jane looked at it critically and sighed. "Leave it there! I'll take
'em along when I go to give 'em their talking to. I can't stop for it
now."
She went into the corridor and presently the song floated out after
her--light-hearted, and gay with little tripping runs in it.
Aunt Jane heard the song faintly in the distance as she knocked on
Herman Medfield's door, and her face smiled intently.
He looked up almost benignantly from his place in the window and laid
the newspaper on his knees and nodded to her.
"Good morning. I was wishing you would come in!"
"You don't look as if you needed anybody," responded Aunt Jane. "You
look first-rate! I'm pretty busy this morning," she added thoughtfully.
She sat down.
He beamed toward her; and the sunshine flooding in behind him lighted up
the quilted robe in a kind of radiant haze of blueness.
"It's a wonderful day!" said Medfield, motioning toward the window.
"I don't know as it's any better day than it was yesterday," replied
Aunt Jane. "Better inside, maybe," she added significantly.
He laughed out. "Much better! I'm all ready for business." He pointed to
a pile of papers lying on a chair beside him.
She regarded them thoughtfully. "You don't want to go to work too soon--
Can't somebody do it for you?"
"Nobody but me can attend to these." He laid his hand on them almost
affectionately, and patted them.
"You're kind of tied down to them, aren't you?" she said impersonally.
"They are my interest in life!" he replied quickly. "I shouldn't have
anything to live for--if it weren't for these!" A note of regret crept
into the last words and shadowed them a little.
"No--I don't suppose you would." Aunt Jane's face was lost in something.