"Yes, I'm here. I've been here quite a spell," said Aunt Jane.
The nurse withdrew and Dr. Carmon and Aunt Jane and the roses were left alone.
He looked suspiciously and grudgingly at the roses and shrugged his shoulders and turned away. He took his hat. "I want you to look in on Number 16—sometime later."
There was no "please" about the request—or "will you kindly." But Aunt Jane understood.
"I was planning to go in by and by—along about four o'clock," she said kindly. "That's the time he'll need somebody most, I guess!"
Dr. Carmon looked again at the roses. "I shall want Suite A, Friday—for a new patient," he said abruptly.
Aunt Jane's mouth opened—and closed.
"Medfield's well enough to go," said Dr. Carmon. He nodded to the roses—as if they knew of Herman Medfield's health. "He'll be better off at home!" he said shortly—and shot out the door.
Aunt Jane gazed after him, a minute.
She took up the card from the desk and held it off and looked at it severely and shook it a little—as if it might have known better—and dropped it into a small drawer behind the roses and locked the drawer—and put the key in her pocket.