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.