Part 9

"You look happy," he admitted. "But I could swear you'd been crying."

"It doesn't matter how I look, does it?" She straightened the clothes a little and shook out his pillows. "Can I get you something, sir? I'm sorry you had to wait."

"It doesn't matter. But I woke up, and thought of Julian--I was afraid he would go away.... I told you to have him wait, you know; and it's after three--he ought to be here by this time." His tone was petulant.

"I'll see if he is here," she replied.

But the door of the sitting-room had opened and they caught a glimpse of the young man crossing the room.

"There he is!" said his father with satisfaction. "Now, don't you go--I may need you."

The boy came and stood in the doorway. "Hallo, Father! How do you do, Miss Canfield." He bowed to her.

"Come in, Julian," said Medfield impatiently. "I missed you this morning. How did you find things at the office?"

"All right, I guess." The young man crossed the room slowly. "I shouldn't know if they weren't right.... I know as much about the business as"--he looked about him and smiled--"as that brass knob over there!" He nodded to it.

His father smiled contentedly. "You'll learn." Then he looked at him quickly. "You like it, don't you?"

"Oh, I like it," said the young man comfortably. "I like it better than anything I've ever done--I feel as if I belonged there. I feel like my own grandfather, I guess." He laughed happily.

"Of course they treat me a good deal like a kid," he added.

"You're not so very old!" responded Herman Medfield with a twinkle.

The young man's eye rested impersonally on the nurse who was moving about the room. "I'm growing up every day," he declared cheerfully.

Miss Canfield's face was not responsive. She was studying Herman Medfield's chart. She took it up and left the room.

Medfield's eyes followed her. "There's a young woman who knows her business," he said with approval.

Julian sat down. "She seems very competent," he responded.

His father shot a keen glance at his cheerful indifference.

"She's more than competent," he said severely. "You want to be tied up like this for a while--to find out what people really are."

"I don't think I should mind it--so much." The boy smiled at him frankly. "You look very comfortable, sir."

"I am better," admitted Medfield.

"What put you back yesterday?"

Medfield looked at the ceiling. "Nobody seems to understand just what it was," he said quietly, "unless, maybe, Aunt Jane knows.... I think perhaps she understands the case--better than the doctor."

"She's a nice old woman!" said Julian pleasantly. "Comfortable to have around."

His father's glance was amused and a little critical. "How old do you suppose she may be, my son?"

"Oh--I don't know--fifty! Any age!" said the boy. "You don't think of age--with a woman like that. You just love her!"

His father smiled. "You have _some_ sense, I see...."

"No, I don't want it!" He held up a warning hand. Miss Canfield had returned with his medicine. "I don't want it!" he said.

Miss Canfield smiled. "The doctor said you were to have it, sir."

"Set it down," said Medfield. "I'll take it by and by.... I'm not sick," he grumbled. "I don't need medicine!" He glanced at it with aversion.

His son looked on with amused smile.

Medfield's eye rested on him and then on Miss Canfield. His face cleared. He motioned to her. "I want my son to see that catalogue that came this morning--the rose catalogue, you know. Will you show it to him, please. It's in the other room."

She started toward the door. "I will bring it."

But he held up a hand. "No, I don't want it in here. I'm tired."

He turned to Julian. "It's the catalogue of foreign roses, from Rotterdam--the firm that Munson orders from. He wants to send in orders for fall delivery--right away. I looked it over and made out a list.... I showed Miss Canfield. She understands----"

He closed his eyes. "I think I'll rest a few minutes," he said. "She'll show the list to you and tell you what I said, and you can give it to Munson to-night. Don't forget it."

He waved them away and lay with closed eyes.... Presently he opened his eyes and smiled a little.... Through the open door he could see two heads bending over the catalogue. The murmur of voices came to him soothingly.

He drew a sigh.... It was almost as if the boy were stupid! A girl like that--one in a thousand--right before him, every day for over a week now!... He lay listening to the voices--there were long silences, it seemed to him, and pauses.... The heads had moved a little. He could not see them and the gaps of silence irritated him.... His thoughts ran back to his own youth. _He_ had not been backward! He held it with a flitting smile. In less than two weeks from the day he met her, she had promised to marry him.... Young people nowadays had no spirit--no fire! He fumed a little. It would probably take Julian six months to discover that the girl was even pretty!... He could not lie in bed six months, waiting for his son to get his eyes open!

He rang the bell impatiently and Miss Canfield came to the door.

She glanced at the glass on the stand beside him. "You have not taken your medicine!"

He looked at it guiltily. "I forgot.... Did you make out the list?"

"Partly." She hesitated, and he fancied that a little fine flush crept along under the transparent skin. "I don't believe I remembered all you said about them."

"Never mind!" He was magnanimous and suddenly cheerful. "I'll go over them again to-morrow.... And I'd like you to see the place where they are to be put." He was speaking slowly. "I think you might help me--if it isn't too much trouble----"

She looked at him questioningly.

"My rose garden, I mean," said Medfield.

"Oh--!" The little fine flush swept up again.

He watched it with satisfaction.

"Julian has never taken much interest in the garden," said Medfield. "He doesn't know one rose from another."

"No--?" She was busy with the glass on the stand.

"But women have a kind of instinct about such things." He was impersonal and gallant; and the little shadow of disturbance left her face.

She moved about, making him comfortable.

"I wish you would ask my son to come here," said Medfield.

The young man came--with the catalogue in his hand. His face was open and cheerful.

"How far have you got?" asked Medfield.

"I don't understand all your hieroglyphics," replied the young man, seating himself on the edge of the bed. "This, for instance!" He held out the book, pointing to a brilliantly colored specimen with little pencilled dots on the margin.

Medfield glanced at it. "That means, 'Try again,'" he said.

"Oh--!" He made a memorandum on the margin, smiling a little as he did it.

"Munson never wants to try things twice," said his father. "You'll have to watch him, or he'll leave that out, now." He nodded to the brilliant-pictured rose.

The boy's eye dwelt on it. "Looks worth trying for--several times," he said softly.

"It is," replied his father. "It's hardy and fragrant and prolific--I am going to have Miss Canfield go out home--to see the garden," he added irrelevantly.

The young man stood up. He looked at his father, a little bewildered, and then toward the door of the next room, where a white figure was flitting about at work.

"I want her to see the garden," went on Medfield. "She has excellent taste--and common sense. She can tell me what Munson's up to--this is just the season he needs watching. No telling what he'll do!"

"I see!" The young man turned over the pages of the Rotterdam catalogue slowly. He was absorbed in them.

"She's going to-morrow afternoon," said Medfield.

"Alone?"

"I suppose she'll go alone, yes--unless you want to spare time to take her," said Medfield carelessly.

"I shall be very glad to take her, sir!"

"Very well." Medfield was indifferent. "You can arrange it between you--four o'clock is a good time to be there," he added. "The light is very good about four." He lay silent for a few minutes. It was growing dark in the room.

"You might have them serve tea for you in the pergola," he said quietly.

Julian started. He had thought his father was asleep. He came over to the bed.

"I'll see that she has a pleasant afternoon, sir." He stood looking down at his father, his hands in his pockets.

"She's been very good to me--taken good care of me, you know," replied Medfield.

"I understand," said Julian. "I'll do everything I can to make it pleasant for her." He looked at his father--and opened his lips to say something and turned away.

Miss Canfield had come in and touched the electric light, and it flooded softly into the room.

XXXII

Some one was singing in the linen-room. Aunt Jane, going by in the corridor, heard the little song and stopped and looked in.

Miss Canfield, at work on her linen-cupboard, was singing happily as she worked. She had gathered up a handful of towels and carried them to the table and was looking at them with a little vexation, her lips still humming the song. She glanced up and saw Aunt Jane and the song stopped. She nodded to her.

"Things are in a terrible state here!"

Aunt Jane came leisurely in. "What's the matter?"

"Look at that!" The girl spread out the towel rapidly "--and that! Did you ever see such work! And--that! They ought not to be sent out like this!... And these belong in the Men's Ward!" She tossed them aside.

Aunt Jane surveyed the confusion equably. "I must get around to the laundry," she said, "--and give them a good going over. I haven't given them a real good talking to--not for as much as three months, I should think!"

"They need it!" said the girl crossly. But her lips were smiling.

Aunt Jane glanced at them. "You're feeling pretty happy this morning," she commented.

The face broke in little dancing waves. "I don't know-- Am I?"

"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.

He regarded the look curiously. "Well--what is it?" he said. "Tell me!"

"I was just thinking you wouldn't need 'em so much when you got your wife," she said quietly.

"My--wife!" His hand loosened its grasp on the papers, and he looked out of the window.

"No." He turned to her and smiled. "I shall not need law papers, nor any other kind--when I have her."

And suddenly something happened to Aunt Jane. She sat up, very straight; the muslin cap radiated lines of dignity about a disturbed face. "I guess maybe we weren't talking about the same thing!" she said quickly.... "Miss Canfield told me she's going out to see your garden this afternoon."

"Yes--she's going with Julian." He spoke with satisfaction and a significance under-ran the words and laughed at her.

Aunt Jane gave a startled gesture----

"Oh!" she said.

Then, after a minute: "Oh!"

Something had collapsed in her. She was gazing at the ruins, a little bewildered.

Herman Medfield watched her and smiled. "You hadn't thought of that!" he said quietly.

"Well--" she made the slide gracefully and recovered herself. "No, I hadn't thought of just--that!"

She looked at him over her glasses. "It's a good thing!" she announced.

He nodded. "But it's a secret!" he cautioned. "Nobody knows--except you and me." He looked at her happily and shared his secret with her.

Aunt Jane's face grew inscrutable. She gave a little sigh. "When did it happen?" she asked.

"It hasn't happened!" returned Medfield. "But it's going to----"

"Well!" Aunt Jane got her breath. "It makes me feel as if I was a kind of blind--Blind as a bat!" she said vigorously. "Not to see.... I guess maybe I don't see anything!" she added with quiet scorn.

He laughed out. "You see more than I wish you did!... You were the only one I couldn't fool. You suspected something right away."

"Yes, I suspected _something_--" said Aunt Jane. She let it go at that. She beamed on him. "I don't know _when_ I've been so pleased about anything!" she declared. "He's a nice boy!"

"One of the best!" said Medfield. "All he needs is backbone--and a little more steadying."

"She'll help," commented Aunt Jane.

"Yes, she will help." Medfield was thoughtful. "But he needs some one in the business--I'm going to put him right into the business and the older men will overrun him--if I don't look out. He's clever. But he's too eager to agree. He takes the first thing at hand. He doesn't look ahead."

Aunt Jane's glance followed it. "He _is_ pretty agreeable," she said slowly. "He needs somebody kind of contrary, I guess----"

"Why!" Her face lighted. "I know a man! Mr. Dalton would be a good man for him!" she exclaimed. "He'd be good for anybody!"

"You speak as if he were a pill!" said Medfield dryly. He had faith in Aunt Jane; and the more he studied the face under its muslin cap, the more faith he had--and something that was not faith, perhaps.... But as a man of business----

"He's just the one you want," said Aunt Jane with decision.

"Well--?" He resigned himself.

"He's obstinate-- Of course, any man is obstinate," she interpolated kindly. "But he's more set than anybody I've ever seen! Seems as if it was part of his make-up, somehow.... I was talking with him the other day and he was telling me about how he'd never succeeded yet----"

There was a little amused and courteous smile on the millionaire's face. He had seen men before who had not succeeded--yet.

Aunt Jane nodded to it. "He said he couldn't stop to pick up the twopenny bits they wanted him to--because he saw something ahead--and all round him, kind of--that was worth more. So he was always having to move on." She rocked a little.

Medfield sat up. His hand reached out to the pile of papers and found a pencil.

"What did you say his name was?"

There was a keen little edge of interest to the words.

"His name is Dalton," said Aunt Jane. "His wife's been here a month and over, now. She goes home to-morrow. She's a nice woman!"

"And what is the address?" His pencil was making little marks on the pad.

"I'll get it for you in the office," said Aunt Jane. She got up. "He had to write it down for me when she came--the same as you all do."

"Of course he may have 'moved on'--by this time." She smiled back to him whimsically from the door.

"If he has moved on, we will move--after him," said Medfield. "I suspect he's the man I have been looking for--a good while!"

Aunt Jane closed the door softly and left him to his happiness. At the far end of the corridor, as she looked down, she caught a glimpse of a dark, stubby figure pursuing its way. It disappeared in Room 16.... Dr. Carmon had a difficult case on this morning. He had told her there was little chance for the man in Number 16. She felt the concentration in the broad back as it disappeared from sight; and her thought left the millionaire in his suite and followed the shabby, grim figure into a darkened room.

XXXIII

"You look very well!" Medfield glanced at his son approvingly. "New suit?"

"I got it in Vienna," said Julian modestly.

"Um-m-- Very good cut! Turn around."

The boy wheeled about.

"Yes--very good---- You have a nice day to go."

Medfield nodded toward the window.

"First-rate!" The young man's face was full of careless light. It seemed to radiate about them.

His father looked at it half curiously. "Have them serve tea for you.... Give her a good time," he said absently. He was searching among the papers beside him. "I ought to have some cards somewhere!"

"What is it, sir? Can I get something for you?"

"Over there in that desk-- That's it! Lower drawer-- Just see if there are some of my cards there, will you?"

The boy took them out with an amused smile. "Going calling?" He brought them across.

Medfield selected one and held his pencil thoughtfully poised for a moment--and smiled as he jotted something down.

He slipped it into an envelope and pencilled the address and handed it to his son.

"Give that to Munson, will you? Tell him to pick three dozen of the best roses in the garden, and send them to-day.... Tell him the _best_ ones!" he added exactly.

The young man glanced at the address carelessly. His face lighted up.

"Fine! I'll tell him to send her some corking ones--a big bunch of them!"

"You can tell him what I said," said his father dryly. "And have them sent to-day."

"All right, sir." He half turned away. "I'd like to pick some roses myself--for Miss Canfield-- You won't object, I suppose?" His father's roses were sacred.

But Herman Medfield waved it away. "Pick all you like." He was gracious with it.

"But not the best ones," laughed the boy. He tucked the card in his pocket and went out.

Aunt Jane, sitting at her desk in the office, looked up as he went by.

He nodded and smiled to her, thinking of the little card tucked away in his pocket.

She got up and came across. "You going out home?" she asked.

He radiated happiness. "A ripping good day, isn't it!" He waved his hand at all outdoors.

"You'll have a good time," said Aunt Jane. "And Miss Canfield's a nice girl." She was surveying his new clothes kindly. "I'm glad you're going to take her."

"So am I!" said the boy. "She's waiting for me--" And he hurried on.

But Miss Canfield was not in the waiting-room. He glanced hurriedly about, and crossed to the open window and looked into the street. He could not sit down.

It was a glorious day--floating clouds, everything fresh and flooded with light.... Down on the walk under the window the man-of-all-work trundled a low cart, and the rumble of the wheels came up, chucking clumsily along.

The young man scarcely heard the sound of the wheels. His ear was waiting for something in the corridor--for light footsteps that would come.... He shrugged his shoulders, looking down on the man trundling his cart, and he whistled softly.... Then his ear caught the sound, coming along the corridor far off--light, tripping steps and the little swish of draperies--and he had turned to face her.

It was not Miss Canfield!

A young woman stood in the doorway, looking in inquiringly.

She was tall and slender, with a certain quiet grace as she stood there, glancing into the room. There was something poised in the motion--a kind of freedom and lightness.

The young man's eye rested on her a minute--and turned back to the window indifferent.... She was very late. He took out his watch and looked--five minutes past the hour. He put it back with a little impatient gesture. They would miss the best light for the garden!

Behind him, in the room, he was conscious that the young woman had come in. She was waiting for some one, it seemed, like himself--and he heard her move a little ... and then a subdued laugh. He half turned his head--it reminded him of something.... Could he have met her somewhere--before he went abroad? The steps rustled and came nearer and a touch fell on his shoulder--very light, as if it might drift away--as if perhaps it were not there....

Julian turned swiftly--and stared into her eyes; they were bubbling over with laughter, and the hair fluffing under the little modish hat, caught reddish gleams and glinted at him. And he stared!

She laughed out--the hands hanging easily before her. "You didn't know me!"

"You are not--_you_!" blurted Julian. "You are--you're different!"

Then he seized her hands and looked at her--"I say! Come on!... You are--You're stunning, you know!"

"Thank you!" said the girl. "Yes--I'm ready." And they went out into the sunshine.

And all the way, in the street-car, sitting beside her, the young man stole glimpses.

She was different! He had expected that she would be changed, of course--a little different in her street clothes; and underneath he discovered he had been half afraid of the change--afraid perhaps that she might be a little common or awkward, without the distinction of her cap and uniform.... But this young woman-- He stole another glance, and his shoulders straightened in a gesture of pride and bewildered delight. This was the real thing! The other girl was masquerading.