"Who did he send them to?" he asked.
"Why—to me!" said Aunt Jane.
She tried her best to look commonplace and unconcerned—as if she had been receiving roses all her life—as if she had large bunches of them every day, flaming away there on her desk.
Dr. Carmon's glance twinkled across the roses—to the placid face.
"Humph!" he said.
"How is Number 16?" asked Aunt Jane.
"Fine!" Dr. Carmon's face lighted with it. He forgot roses—"He's going to pull through all right—I think."
"That's good! I kind of reckoned he'd come through." She had turned a leisurely glance to the door.
The nurse stood there.
"I can't—" she began. "Oh—you're here! I looked everywhere for you!"