She accepted it. "Well--if there was--there's one thing she could make a
good deal of use of--if she had it. I've thought about it----"
"Yes-- That's what I want!"
"It's expensive," said Aunt Jane.
"We can talk about that later."
She sighed. "It seems kind of ridiculous!... I don't suppose you'll
understand, maybe?" She looked up at him.
"I'll try--I don't think there are many things you could say that I
should not understand," he said softly.
Aunt Jane's glance hastily sought the teacups. "It's a kind of little
home for me." She looked at him as if begging him not to make fun of
her.
"You don't mean you want to leave your hospital!" It was half amused and
wholly alert, and the question darted at her.
She caught it with a quick shake of the muslin cap. "I don't ever want
to live anywhere except in the House of Mercy," she said.
"Oh!" The crestfallen word slipped across to her, and Aunt Jane's face
relaxed.
"It's kind of a wing I was thinking of----"
"But I gave you your wing!"
"This is a little one--a kind of place of my own--where I could have
them--when they were dismissed, you know--well enough to go home but not
quite ready--in their minds, maybe.... I don't know as you ever
thought--that it takes courage to start?" She regarded him mildly.
"I can imagine it--yes." His tone was dry.
She nodded. "I'd like to have a little home--not belonging to the
hospital, but just to me, close by--where I could take 'em in, for a
visit-like, till their courage had time to grow."
"I see--a cucumber frame for courage."
She looked up to see if he were making fun. But he was gazing
thoughtfully into a teacup.
"Poor folks have to get their courage somehow--and it's hard
work--wastes a good deal," she said practically.... "And then sometimes,
there's rich folks that don't want to go--when the time comes--" Her
eyes twinkled with it. "I'd like to ask them to visit me sometimes."
He was silent, looking into his teacup.
"Have you finished?" he asked. "Is that all?" The little irony of the
words danced across to her kindly.
She sighed, and leaned back in her chair. "You made me tell you! I've
never told anybody, before. I know it sounds foolish--having a home of
my own!"
He got up from his chair, and went toward a big desk. Then he paused and
came back and stood by her chair, with one hand on it, looking down at
her.
"I never think anything you do is foolish! You know that!"
Aunt Jane jumped a little. "Well--I think I'm foolish--a good many
times!"
He smiled and went over to the desk and drew out his check-book. "How
much will it cost, do you suppose?" He looked over his shoulder to her.
"I could get along with a little one," she said meekly.
He smiled again, and filled in the check. "Make it ten thousand for a
start." He blotted it carefully. "If it isn't enough, there's more where
it came from." He patted the check-book with just a little happy touch
of pride, and came across and laid the blue slip in her lap.
"It is for another woman, you know," said Medfield.
He moved across and stood by the fireplace, looking at her with frankly
happy eyes.
"What do you mean--by that?" said Aunt Jane. Her fingers seemed a little
afraid of the blue slip in her lap.
"Just that!" His face was quiet with the happiness shining in it--ready
to break through at a word. "Just that. If some other woman comes to the
House of Mercy, she is to have it--otherwise I take it back."
Aunt Jane's fingers abandoned the check. It slipped to the floor.
He came over and picked it up and placed it on the table beside her, and
bent a little to her. "I want to give you a larger home, Jane. I want to
give you all I have.... Won't you come and live with me?"
"Oh--dear!" said Aunt Jane.
"That's what I meant." He was smiling, but the shadow crossed his face.
"I can't!" said Aunt Jane. She pushed the check from her, and opened the
little bag, searching--with half-blinded fingers for the other.
"I can't take 'em!" she said.... "And we do need the wing for
contagion--" Her fingers had found the slip and she took it out
longingly, and laid it beside the other on the table and glanced up at
him with a little, tremulous shake. "I can't take it--if you were
offering it to me just because you thought you were--in love with me!"
She looked at it regretfully. "I did hope it wasn't that!" she said
softly.
"But it is!" The tone was grave, with a little line of hope running
through. "Take it, Jane!" he said gently. "I am not asking anything.
It's yours, you know!"
She shook her head. "It seems as if it wouldn't be quite--fair-- And we
do need the new wing for contagion--the worst way!"
He took up the two checks and folded them in his thin, quiet fingers and
lifted the little bag.
"You will take them," he said. He slipped them into the bag and closed
it. "Money is only good for what it will buy-- Mine does not seem able
to buy anything better worth while at present.... Besides"--he dropped
the little bag and crossed the hearth--"I shall not spoil your life--or
mine! You're going to ask me to visit you, you know, in your little
home!"
He was smiling at her.
"You're tired!" she said with quick remorse.
But he lifted a hand. "I'm all right. I'm not going to play on your
sympathies that way!" He sat down. "I'm all right!"
"You're going to bed!" said Aunt Jane. She got up and rang the bell.
Then she came and stood by his chair and looked at him and hesitated....