"Yes?" Aunt Jane's response was veiled. But the good-will in her face shone through. "I'll tell you anything I can. There's a good many things I don't know." Her cap was whimsical.
"You know this!" He laughed. "It's about your old hospital!" He motioned toward the little bag with its check.
"Oh—I know the hospital— It's 'most all I do know!"
"You feel as if you owned it, don't you!" His tone teased her gently. Then he left it—and leaned forward——
"What I was thinking was this: Isn't there something that you would like for the hospital—not just contagion—not a whole wingful!" He twinkled at it. "But something you have seen that is needed. Isn't there something?" He folded his arms on the table, and looked across the teacups at the thoughtful little lines that came and went in her face.
"Is there?" he said.
The lines took it in—and held it wistfully. "You don't mean tea-strainers and such things—you mean something worth while?"
He nodded. "Something worth while, yes. I mean anything.... Think of it—not for yourself, perhaps—" His face grew intent. "Think of it as if some other woman were there."
Aunt Jane sat up. "I can't hardly think of any other woman running my hospital!" she said dryly.
He waved it off. "But if there were?"