The sunshine in the Children's Ward glinted happily; it touched on bits
of brass here and there and gleamed, and slipped across the skylight,
making shadows in the room. The white-capped nurses had finished their
work. Every bed was freshly made, picture-books and toys were scattered
through the ward. Flowers stood on the little stands by the beds; and a
great bunch of roses was on the table in the centre, under the skylight.
Aunt Jane standing at the door of the ward, looked in, touching the arm
of the man beside her. "Those are your roses over there--the ones that
came yesterday-- They look nice, don't they?" She spoke in a
half-whisper--not to attract the attention of the children.
She had wanted him to see the ward like this; and she had wanted him to
see Jimmie Sullivan's new leg. And, most of all, she had wanted a good
excuse for persuading Herman Medfield to try his strength a little....
If Dr. Carmon's new patient was to have Suite A on Friday, there was no
time to waste; and Herman Medfield had been obstinate in refusing to
exert himself.
"I'm very comfortable where I am!" he had declared. And he had refused
to budge, or to wear anything except the ├Žsthetic, blue quilted gown.
It was only by deep guilelessness that Aunt Jane had succeeded in
bringing him as far as the door of the Children's Ward.
Herman Medfield's glance followed the motion of her hand and rested on
the roses. It grew interested as it travelled slowly through the ward to
the faces of the children. He was taking in the clean, cool look of the
place and the sunlight coming in and the happiness that shone
everywhere. It was not what he had imagined the Children's Ward in a
hospital would be.... And he had a suspicion that all Children's Wards
were not like this--a suspicion that the woman beside him had more to do
with the quiet charm of the room than one might have guessed from the
unconcerned look of her face.
Beyond the ward, opening out through big doors and the low, wide
windows, he had a glimpse of a balcony--with growing plants along its
edge and a striped awning; and drifting clouds and the blue sky beyond
the awning. His glance came back to his roses in the centre of the room.
They were a great bunch of the choicest ones that grew in his garden.
They looked very well there, he admitted.
"But I did not intend them for the Children's Ward--" he said, turning
and looking down at her.
"I told them Mr. Herman sent them," said Aunt Jane. "I knew you'd like
them to have 'em. They take comfort with 'em, you see." She nodded to a
child who was lying with her eyes fixed on the flowers. There was a
patient look in the small, shrewd face.
"She likes 'em," said Aunt Jane. "They'll do her a world of good!"
She avoided Herman Medfield's eye. She had been a little surprised to
find that it was difficult to meet his gaze.... He was almost like a
stranger--dressed in the gray business suit and looking down on her with
keen, clear eyes.... She had forgotten that Herman Medfield was tall. As
she had remembered him, that first day when she went into the
waiting-room with his card in her hand, he had not been so tall. She
seemed to remember that she had looked down on him and had put him in
his place--easily.... Perhaps his thinness made him seem taller--or was
it the little triumphing twinkle that had crept into his eyes.
Aunt Jane refused to see the twinkle. She felt sorry for Herman
Medfield--somewhere in the back of her mind.
"There's Jimmie Sullivan!" she said. "That's your leg--the one you got
for him!"
"Looks like his own," commented Medfield.
Aunt Jane opened the door--and a child looked up from her picture-book.
"Aunt Jane's come!" The ward took it up.
Aunt Jane looked up at Herman Medfield, half apologizing for the
commotion they made.
"It helps them get well," she said.