"Don't thank me!" said Aunt Jane hastily. "I didn't do anything!"
"Didn't you tell them to do it?"
"I didn't tell them anything, except that you were Mr. Herman. They did the rest themselves.... Children generally do things—nice things, if you let 'em alone—and don't meddle too much."
"You better go out and preach that doctrine to the world," said Medfield laughing. He was looking out over the city.
"I haven't time to preach," said Aunt Jane.... "Sometimes I wish I had—I've got a good many things I'd like to say!" Her eyes twinkled swiftly.
He nodded. "I've heard them—some of them—when I was cantankerous."
"You're doing pretty well, now," responded Aunt Jane.
"Fair." His tone was cautious. He was not to be inveigled into acknowledging complete recovery—yet. His glance travelled out over the roofs—and he started and leaned forward.
"I believe that is my place—over there!" He was pointing off into the haze where a greenhouse caught the sun on its glass and flashed back from the distance.
She nodded toward it. "That's your place, yes. I was noticing it the other day—when Julian and Mary Canfield went out there. I happened to be up here—and looked off and saw it." She regarded the flashing glass in the haze.