Aunt Jane came in, bearing the forget-me-nots before her.

The millionaire raised a hand. "Take them a——!"

But she came tranquilly on.

"They were sent to you—special." She held them out.

He scowled at them. Then his look broke to bewilderment and a little amusement.

"They're the ones you carried off!" he exclaimed.

"The same ones," replied Aunt Jane with satisfaction. "A woman sent them to you."

"I know who sent them!"

"You don't know this one—it's a Mrs. Pelton."

He stared at her. "The one I sent them to—the one you took them to?"

She nodded. "She's sent 'em back."

"Didn't she like them?" His tone was hurt—almost stiff.

"Oh, she liked 'em. She said they made her 'most too happy." Aunt Jane was arranging the flowers and smiling at them. "She only sent part of them you see. She's divided with you."

"I see!" He looked at the flowers vaguely.

"She didn't know it was you that sent them," said Aunt Jane. She stood off to get the effect.

"Who did she think sent them?" he demanded.

"Why—'Mr. Herman,' I told her.... You know about Mr. Herman?" She looked at him.

"Yes," meekly.

"I told her about him. So she's feeling thankful to him." Her eyes twinkled a little.

"But why should she send flowers to me?" He looked at her almost suspiciously, as if he had caught her.

Aunt Jane shook her head reprovingly. "She sent them to you because you happened to come the same day she did. She saw you through the door whilst she was waiting for me to come in, and it made her feel acquainted with you, coming the same day—so—and both having suffering to go through with—— There, they look nice, don't they!" She gave a final touch to them and sat down.

He glanced at them grudgingly.

"I'll take them out if you say so—if you'd rather not have them?"

"No, leave them.... I—want them." The words came almost quickly.

"I thought you'd like them," she said placidly, "when you'd made up your mind to it. It's hard for any one to make up his mind sometimes."

The millionaire was looking at the flowers. "I've been thinking about what you told me this morning," he motioned to the bowl of forget-me-nots, "—about Mrs. Pelton.... This hospital business must be a big bill for a workingman to meet.... I was wondering if it couldn't be arranged so that I could pay—without their knowing, of course," he added hastily.

Aunt Jane was silent a minute. Then, a little guiltily, she looked at him. "You have paid already," she said.

He had been looking dreamily before him, pleased with Aunt Jane, and with the flowers—and with himself—pleased with everybody. He moved irritably and stared.

She nodded, the little wrinkles gathering about her eyes. "I didn't mean that you should find it out—not right off.... But it's just as well, I guess."

"What do you mean?"

"Well." She rocked a little. "She was kind of anxious—the day she came, you know.... I see, as soon as I came into the room that she was worrying—" Aunt Jane rocked placidly, looking back to Mrs. Pelton's worrying face. "Pretty soon it came out—they hadn't got the money; and she'd been just drove to come—as you might say—Dr. Carmon makes 'em come whether they want to or not, you know?" She looked at him inquiringly over her glasses.

"Yes, I know." The words were remote and dry.

Aunt Jane smiled a little. "And just then I caught sight of you through the door, and your coat lying on a chair—it was a silk-lined coat, you know—your clothes are all pretty good." She looked at him with satisfaction.

A glint of amusement crossed the remote face.

"So it came to me, then and there, just the way the things do—the right ones, when you're bothering—and I said to her that you were going to pay for her."

She sat looking at him.

"Well?"

She roused herself. "You never see anybody change so—right in a minute, that way.... I do wish you could have seen her!" She gave a pitying glance at the handsome figure on the pillow.... "It seems a pity, 'most, to do so much for everybody and not have the good of seeing it!"

"How do you know I will pay the bill?" asked the millionaire grimly.

She turned and stared—and a little gleaming smile twinkled at him. "Why—you have paid already! Leastways, your lawyer's paid. He sends a check every week—the way you told him—to pay the bill; and I've made it out big enough for two, right along." Her face was complacent and kind.

"Do you call that business?" He asked it almost sharply.

"No—not business—just good sense, I guess—and decency."

"I call it crooked dealing!" said the millionaire. Something of the old, gripping look came into the shapely hands lying on the bed.

Aunt Jane surveyed him and rocked on. "How much do you reckon your life is worth, Mr. Medfield?" she said after a little pause.

"I'm insured for—" He stopped.

She nodded. "That wasn't what I meant—but it will do. Whatever you're insured for—you're worth it, I guess." She paused and regarded him doubtfully.... "You're probably worth as much as you are insured for—" Her look considered it, and let it go.... "Whatever it is, we've saved it for you—among us. We've given you the best care we knew how.... You've had good care, haven't you?" She bent a solicitous look on him.

"The best of care," he said courteously. Then, after a minute: "Money could not pay for it—the kind of care you have given.... I have not forgotten the night—when I went down into the dark—and you held me." He was looking at something deep and quiet—then his gaze turned to her.

Aunt Jane returned it a minute—and looked away.... There was something in the face of the millionaire that she had not seen in it before. She got up and went to the window. "Looks as if it would be a good day to-morrow," she murmured.

She straightened the curtains a little and shook them out and came leisurely back. She glanced at the forget-me-nots.

"What I meant was," she said slowly, "some folks get big bills when they're here—and some folks get little ones, and some don't get any. It depends on what the Lord has given 'em; and we mean to take good care of 'em all."

He smiled. "Well—the Lord has given me plenty. I ought not to complain!"

"I didn't expect you would complain," said Aunt Jane. "I put it in the bill under Suite A—enough for two. And I told Dr. Carmon to make his bill big enough for two—I guess he'll do it. He's a pretty sensible man." She rocked placidly.

Herman Medfield relaxed a little and looked at her whimsically. "It's a human way to do," he said thoughtfully. "And I do get something for my money. This is a pleasant room."

"It's pleasant enough. But I've thought a good many times it's a pity you can't be in the ward."

"Me—in a ward!"

She nodded. "You're lonesome, aren't you?"

He looked at her with sudden thought. "You didn't know my boy has come!" he said.

Aunt Jane stopped. "Your boy?"

"My boy—Julian! I told you!"

"You said Julian was in Europe—" replied Aunt Jane.

"He came this morning!" The millionaire's voice laughed. "Walked right in through that door—without a word!" He nodded to it—as if still seeing the boy coming toward him.

Aunt Jane looked at the door and then at the man's face, and smiled.

"I told you Europe wasn't so very far off," she said. "But I didn't know it was quite so near you as that!"