aunt jane was in her office. it was monday morning and the wheels had gritted getting under way. she had poured a drop of oil here and another drop there, as it seemed needed, and had come back to her office for a general survey before starting again.
it was well known in the house of mercy that the times when the whole hospital force went scurrying about, under some sudden emergency, were often the times that aunt jane chose, for some unknown reason, to sit quietly in her office, doing nothing.
hurrying by the office door, with tense look and quick-running feet, they would catch a glimpse of aunt jane sitting placidly at ease; and they would slow down a little, perhaps, and wonder what she could be thinking of to sit there as if nothing were wrong.... and then, somehow, through the hospital[pg 196] would run a quiet, steadying force that seemed to hold them in place and use them for its ends; and they would be conscious, as they worked, of being bigger than they had guessed.
aunt jane was not thinking now of any crisis. the troubles this morning were petty ones—"pin pricks," she called them. she was wondering about the millionaire—and wondering whether she would better go to suite a.... miss canfield had reported a good night and dr. carmon would be coming soon.
she looked up. the doctor's figure was in the doorway. he nodded gruffly as he took off his coat. "everybody all right?"
aunt jane's tongue clicked a little. she went to a corner of the room and moved back the screen and turned on the hot water.
"come here," she said.
the doctor looked at her inquiringly.
"you didn't clean your vest! it's a perfect sight!" she tested the water with her hand and took up the soap.
dr. carmon glanced down at the expanse of vest guiltily. he scowled. "i'm too busy—to fuss." he reached for his bag.
[pg 197]
"come here!" said aunt jane.
and while he fidgeted and grumbled, her firm, efficient fingers scrubbed at him with soap and hot water and a bit of rough cloth. satisfaction shone on him. "i never knew a man that could keep himself clean!" she said briskly.
"there!" she stood back a little. "it doesn't show much now. i'll do a little more on it—when it's dried off so i can see."
he backed hastily away. "i'll send it to the tailor. i'll do it to-night."
"you don't need to waste money on tailors," she said calmly. "a little soap and—" but he was gone.
aunt jane smiled to herself and put back the soap and hung up the cloth and replaced the screen. she moved with the ample leisure of those who have plenty of time.
a nurse came in from the waiting-room. "a man is here—a mr. dalton. he wants to know if he can see you?"
"yes, i'll see him," said aunt jane.
"he said he could come again if you are too busy." the nurse waited.
"no, i'm not busy—no busier than i always[pg 198] am, i guess. you tell him to come in."
he came in with quick step and a little light in his face—as if a glint of sun shone on a dark field.
aunt jane looked at him approvingly. "you're doing first-rate!"
he laughed. "i don't have to try. luck is coming my way now!"
"folks generally have to go fully half-way to meet it," said aunt jane. "you seen your wife?"
he nodded. "she has been telling me—i want to thank you!" he said it impulsively and came nearer to her; his dark face worked with something he did not say.
"sit down, mr. dalton. you don't need to thank me," said aunt jane.
"edith told me——"
"yes, i don't doubt she told you. she thinks i did something, maybe. but i didn't.... when folks get well," she was looking at him and speaking slowly. "when folks get well they get well—all over; and then no matter who comes along and says to 'em, 'why don't you do so-and-so?'—they think it's[pg 199] something special.... maybe it's just as well to let them think it—" she was smiling to him—"if it helps any."
"but it's true!" he said stoutly. "i've known edith longer than you have—she hasn't ever been the way she is now."
"i'm glad for you, mr. dalton!" said aunt jane heartily, "and i know you'll be good to her. i can see it in your face—that you treat her well."
the face clouded. "i mean to—but i never seem to know just how she'll take things——"
"what's been the trouble?" asked aunt jane.
"she didn't tell you?"
aunt jane shook her head. "we didn't talk much—just visited together a little and got acquainted."
he seemed thoughtful. "i think the real trouble is something that never gets put into words; and it isn't so easy to put in words.... i'm a failure, i guess!" he looked up apologetically. "i don't know that you will understand. but i've had chances—every sort of chance—and i've never made good."
[pg 200]
"never made money, you mean," said aunt jane placidly.
he looked up quickly. "that's it!"
"what seemed to be the matter?"
"i don't know." he was looking before him. "when i got through college, i thought i was going to get on all right—thought i should be a big man some day." he looked at her and smiled.
"you look pretty big and strong," assented aunt jane.
he laughed out. "i'm big enough this way!" he reached out his arms from the broad shoulders and clinched the hands a little. "i can tackle anything in sight. but—" he leaned forward—"it's the things that are out of sight that i can't seem to come to grips with."
"that's what bothers most folks, i guess—men folks special," said aunt jane. "i've known a good many men, and i like them.... i like men better'n i do women," she added a little guiltily, "but sometimes it seems to me, when i'm with 'em, as if they were blind—a little mite blind about what's going on inside."
[pg 201]
she rocked a little.
"maybe it's just because they're slow," she said reflectively. "they can't see quick, the way women can, and they're kind of afraid of what they can't see—some like children in the dark." she was smiling at him.
he nodded. "you've got it! i shouldn't wonder if that's the way edith feels. she's never said it just that way. but she doesn't seem to understand what i'm after; and i can't tell her—because i don't know myself," he added candidly.
"so while you're figuring it out, she calls it something else?" said aunt jane.
"that's it! and then we get—angry, and i can't even think. it seems to paralyze me, some way."
aunt jane was smiling to herself. "'most seems as if it would have been a better way to have men folks marry men folks—" she looked at him shrewdly. "they'd get along more comfortable?"
he shook his head and laughed. "i want edith just the way she is. but i wish——"
"yes—we all do." aunt jane nodded. "we like what we've got—pretty well. but[pg 202] we're always wishing it was a little mite different some way.... i like my work here; and i do it about as well as i know how. but some days i wish—" she broke off and sat looking before her.
the young man's face regarded her attentively. he leaned forward. "i'm taking too much of your time. i didn't think how busy you must be. i'll go now. and thank you for letting me talk." he stood up.
aunt jane reached out a hand.
"sit down, mr. dalton. that's what my time is for—to talk about things.... what was it you said you wished?"
he sat down. "i'd like to tell you—if you really have time.... and it won't take so long—" he was looking at it thoughtfully. "you see, i've never made good, because i've never stayed long in one place. that is what frets edith—what she can't understand."
"it's hard for a woman—always changing round," said aunt jane. "hard on the furniture."
he smiled. "we haven't changed house so many times. it's been mostly in the city[pg 203] here. but each time i've had to start all over.... after we were married, i went in with clark & lyman; that's edith's father—george b. lyman; and i thought i was fixed for life. and it wasn't six months before i had to move on."
"i suppose you'd done something they didn't like," commented aunt jane.
he laughed. "it was what i didn't do! they said i didn't take my chances. edith's father said i didn't."
"take risks, you mean?"
"no.... chances to make money—he said i let the best chances go by."
"why did you do that?" asked aunt jane. her face, turned to him, was full of kindly interest.
he sat with his hands thrust in his pockets, looking at her.
"that's what i've never been able to tell edith," he said slowly. "but i think i can tell you—if you'll let me.... i've been thinking about it a good deal since she's been ill and i think it's because i always see something ahead—something bigger—that i'd rather work for." the hands thrust themselves[pg 204] deeper into his pockets and his face grew intent. "i feel it so strongly—that it seems wasteful to stop to pick up the twopenny bits they're scrambling for."
he threw back his shoulders. "well, i'm going to try.... i've made up my mind—she means more to me than anything in the world and if she can't be happy, i'm going to give it up.... that's all! and thank you for letting me talk it out. it's done me more good than you know!" he held out his hand.
aunt jane took it slowly. "i don't quite think i'd give up, mr. dalton." she was looking at him through her glasses, and the young man had a sudden sense that her face was beautiful. "i don't think i'd give up—not quite yet—if i was you."
