His shoulders straightened a little as he stood up. "I feel as if I had just come home," he said. "I've never felt at home before—anywhere!... It is curious to feel that way in a hospital, isn't it?"
His father's eyes were fixed on him dreamily. "I've been feeling 'at home,' too. And I have an idea a good many people feel that way—in the Berkeley House of Mercy." He said the last words slowly and softly, as if they pleased him.
"Why should they, I wonder?" said the boy.
"I wonder—" said Herman Medfield. "Perhaps I shall be able to tell you some day. I feel as if I were beginning to understand a good many things I never knew before.... If you will just give me your arm now, across the room, I think I'll get to bed."
[XXXV]
Aunt Jane was tired. She would not acknowledge it—even to herself. But it had been a trying day. The people in the laundry had been surprisingly difficult—when she went to give them their talking to, and she finally had to put her foot down.
She went slowly along the hall now, giving a last look for the night and glancing into shaded rooms, here and there.... At the door of 16 she paused.... The case in 16 troubled her. Dr. Carmon was anxious about the case. He did not need to tell her. She had known by the little hunched-over look of his broad shoulders down the hall.... She knew that look as far as she could see it.... And he had already been twice to look after Room 16.
She went in and gave a few directions to the nurse and glanced at the figure on the bed, and went on to her office.