herman medfield, wrapped in a dark-blue quilted gown, was sitting in the sunny window that looked down into the back yards.... he remembered the day—only three weeks ago, was it—that he had watched the servant-girl hanging sheets on the line. he remembered how strong her arms were as she swung the sheets on the line.... he looked down into the yard. she was there now—singing just as she had then; the window was open and her voice came drifting in with the scent of the flowers that grew down by the fence.

he leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. he was tired; more tired than he had thought he should be. sitting in bed, he had felt strong—almost well. and he had demanded his clothes.

"we'll let you wear a dressing-gown the first day or two," aunt jane had said with a[pg 168] twinkle. "you've got a real pretty silk one, i see."

so she had brought out the quilted gown and laid it on the bed; and he had dressed slowly and come out here to the sunny sitting-room, where the big chair was drawn up in the window.

he had looked down into the yard, with a feeling of strangeness and newness, and had wondered a little whether it was the change in the foliage that made the yard look different, or whether the change was in herman medfield's eyes.

then he had closed his eyes and leaned back.... perhaps he had slept a little—with the fresh air coming in and the girl's voice singing and the sound of doves cooing from a roof near by—for when he opened his eyes again, julian was sitting at the desk, writing.

he looked up and encountered his father's gaze and came over to the window.

"how are you feeling, dad?"

"first-rate. it seems good to get on my legs again." he was looking eagerly at the boy, taking in his fresh young strength....[pg 169] it had been several days since julian came; but herman medfield was not yet used to his being there, or to the little proud feeling that came over him as he looked at this young man who was his son. he had never thought julian was handsome. but something seemed to have happened to him.... he carried himself more like a man; and there was a look behind the lines of his face.... he thought of the boy's mother, as he watched it.... europe had brought out the best that was in him. it had been a wise move—sending him off like that, to get him out of mrs. cawein's way.... and then it came to him that julian was looking even better than the day he arrived.... perhaps, after all, he was fond of his old dad! they had had many talks together—and had sat silent for long spaces of quiet; and the boy came and went as if his father's room were home to him. every one in the hospital had come to know the quick step and light figure and the laugh that ran through the hall.... he went across the town to the vacant house to sleep. but his meals were served with his father's—when he could persuade aunt jane[pg 170] to send them in—and when he could not coax her to send in the extra tray, he went to a restaurant near by.

aunt jane and he had been friends from the minute he held out his hand to her, and she had taken it in hers and patted it and looked at him out of her muslin cap. "you're just the age of my boy," she had said, looking at him. "i always wonder what he'd be doing now—if i could see him."

and the young man had reached up an arm—before she could catch the meaning of his look—and thrown it around her neck and kissed her, just under the muslin border of her cap. "i guess that's what he would do first," he said. and aunt jane's eyes had filled with quick tears as she turned away.

"that's great foolishness!" she had said softly.

but the boy had won his place; and he was always asking for her when he came. she appeared now in the doorway with a card in her hand—looking at it doubtfully. her glance ran to the figure in the window in its stately dressing-gown, and returned again to the little black-edged card.

[pg 171]

the young man's eye fell on it and his eyebrows lifted a trifle. he came over.

"for me?" he held out his hand.

she ignored the hand and passed on to the millionaire, extending the card. her face was impersonal and severe.

the boy's quick laugh broke across it.

"caught, dad!" he chuckled, looking at the card.

the millionaire glanced down and his face darkened.

"tell her i cannot—" he stopped abruptly— suppose she had heard that the boy was home! his father's room was the best place for him—and for her to see him! he sighed and laid down the card.

"very well. tell her to come in."

the young man watched her go, and laughed out and then chuckled softly; his father smiled grimly.

the door opened and the widow entered. she was dark, with a white throat and white hands and bewildering bits of jet that twinkled as she moved. they tinkled softly as she came in.

aunt jane, following discreetly, closed the[pg 172] door behind her and went to a table across the room.

the widow stood looking at the two men with a charming smile.

julian came forward. "how do you do, mrs. cawein?" he was holding out his hand and smiling.

"how-de-do, julie!" she touched the hand lightly and fluttered by him toward the chair in the window— "and how is the dear man!" she cried.

julian, the little smile still on his lips, watched the comedy. aunt jane from across the room regarded it mildly.

the millionaire half rose as if warding off something——

but the dark lady only pressed his hand as it reached out; she lighted on a chair near by and twinkled a little and shone beamingly on him.

herman medfield sank back in his chair.

"it's so good to see you!" she exclaimed softly. "and do you know i might have missed you altogether!" she had clasped her hands and was looking at him reproachfully.

"there was a nurse person met me in the[pg 173] hall, and she said you were not here—that it was all a mistake in the name!" she spread her hands dramatically; the jets twinkled fast like little eyes all over her.... "she said you weren't here—that they'd got the wrong name!... then this good woman—" the little jewels on her hands glinted at aunt jane lightly. "this good woman met me—or i shouldn't have got in at all!"

herman medfield cast a glance of due appreciation at "this good woman." her face was expressionless and cheerful; she was regarding the widow with uncritical eyes.

"it was very good in her, i am sure," murmured herman medfield.

"wasn't it!... i've quite been dying to see you, you know!" she leaned toward him a little and sparkled for him.

"i think i must have been dying to see you," responded the millionaire politely. "though they told me i was doing very well." he said it reflectively, leaning back in his chair and smiling at her.

the boy watched the play with amused eyes. he had no idea his father could be so courtly with women.

[pg 174]

the visitor bridled to it and used her eyes. "it's a mercy you're better! think of the interests you represent!"

"i try not to think of them," said medfield dryly.

"of course!— you must not!" she quite cried out about it.

then she turned to julian. "and where have you been—naughty boy?"

the young man blushed and stammered. she had not held him at finger ends the last time he saw her.

"i've been—been everywhere!" he said with a laugh.

aunt jane had slipped quietly into the next room and through the doorway her ample figure could be seen shaking up pillows and moving softly about. the widow's eyes followed the figure reflectively and watched it disappear through a door that led into the corridor.

"julian—dear——"

the boy jumped a little.

she was speaking over her shoulder to him and she leaned back smilingly. "would you mind, julian, getting my bag for me? i left it in the car— so stupid of me!"

[pg 175]

"with pleasure." the young man went toward the door. he glanced casually as he passed her at the chair she sat so airily upon.

there was a little smile on his lips as he closed the door.