"I'm going to think about it--look into it," said the man of business. A
little keen look had come into his face, breaking its lazy quiet.
Aunt Jane regarded it without fear. She was her tranquil self again. "If
you look into it, you'll find we need it pretty bad," she said.
He had taken out his pencil and was making a note. "All right. I may
give you _two_ wings ... if you really _need_ them!" The tone was
teasing again.
"I don't need two," said Aunt Jane composedly. "Of course, we may need
another--some time," she added thoughtfully.
His laugh was happy.
"You'll let me stay now, won't you?" He put back his pencil and settled
reposefully in his chair and watched her.
She turned on him. "Now you are being selfish!--and spoiling
everything!" It was full of reproach, but tinged with the happiness of
the new wing....
"You see it's a child!" said Aunt Jane.
"A child?" He sat up. "Put her in there!" He motioned to the ward.
She shook her head. "She can't be put there at first--not right off. Her
mother's coming with her-- Your suite is the only place we've got." She
gazed out over the balcony-rail--not to disturb his feelings--but he
stirred uncomfortably.
"Of course the mother'll go home in a day or two," went on Aunt Jane.
"They generally do go home.... They come here thinking nobody can do for
their children but themselves--and then, somehow--in a day or two, they
go home." She sat looking at him and beaming, and Medfield laughed.
"And you're proud of it!" he said.
"I'm not proud--exactly," said Aunt Jane. "But I do take comfort, doing
for them--and knowing they're all happy--as happy as they can be, with
their sufferings.... They are coming Friday afternoon, along about four.
So if you could be ready to go at three----"
"I'm not going!"
She regarded him mildly.
"You can have your old suite for them--" He was like a boy, laughing at
her. "But I won't go home!"
"There isn't any other place for you," said Aunt Jane calmly. "I told
you about it--we haven't any other room."
He looked about him. "I'll sleep anywhere--! I'll sleep in the
Children's Ward!" He waved a hand.
Aunt Jane's face was vexed. Of course, he was going to give the
wing--and it softened her austerity a little. But he was a grown man. He
ought to behave better. She got up quickly. "I can't have you upsetting
everything!" she said.
She went into the ward, leaving him in solitary state.
He watched the plump figure moving among the beds, and the faces turned
to it; and he smiled whimsically.... "I mean to upset things a good deal
more for you--before I'm done, Aunt Jane!" he said softly.
He sat looking out over the city and dreaming contentedly. When Aunt
Jane appeared again in the door, he turned to her.
"I've decided," he said.
She came out.
"I'll go," he said, looking up at her. "I'll go--if you will go with
me."
Up above them they could hear the awning flapping a little in the wind,
and the children's voices from the ward.
Aunt Jane's gaze travelled out over the roofs, to the greenhouse and its
glass flashing back the sunlight. She sighed.
"Well--I'll go. I'm too busy, and I ought not to take time.... I don't
see how I can spare time to go. But you're so obstinate--" She looked at
him appealingly.
He shook his head.
"Well--I'll go with you--" said Aunt Jane. "It won't take long--going in
a car."
And Herman Medfield smiled, looking out across the roofs to his home.