"Well, I don't know as it's so beautiful." Aunt Jane was looking thoughtfully before her. She was thinking of Suite A, perhaps. "It's a good, comfortable room and you get a little sun—along toward sunset." She glanced at the window, where the streak of sunshine was creeping in on the sill, and a little glow came from the sky. "It's a comfortable room—yes."
"The ward would be cheaper," said the woman. She hesitated. "It don't seem quite fair to him—the man that's paying, I mean—not to get along as cheap as we can."
"I wouldn't worry about getting along cheap," said Aunt Jane. "Some folks need one thing, and some another. What you need is to keep still a spell and rest.... You don't feel lonesome, do you?"
"Lonesome! Oh, no!" She gave a little sigh. Her thin hands were clasped in her lap. "It is so good to be quiet!" she said.
"I thought likely," Aunt Jane nodded. "You just sit still and enjoy your quiet and get well ... you don't need to worry about the man that's going to pay. He wouldn't want you to worry. He's comfortable and he'd want you to be comfortable. He's got a good room."
The woman's eyes brooded on it. "I can't thank him, or do anything," she said a little wistfully. "I'd like to have him know how we feel about his doing it."
"Well, you can thank him by and by, when you get round to it—if you want to," said Aunt Jane. "I guess he'll let you thank him. You want to get well first."
"Yes." Her eyes were on the forget-me-nots and she reached out a hand to them. "I might send him some of my flowers," she said eagerly.
Aunt Jane's face wrinkled at the forget-me-nots—a little perplexed and surprised and amused look.