Aunt Jane considered it. "Well, you can go as soon as you can go—it may be ten days and it may be eleven. I wouldn't begin to say just how many days 'tis—if I was you. We mean to make you comfortable as long as you stay here." She looked at her benignly over her glasses. "You're comfortable, aren't you?"
"Oh, I'm comfortable!" said the woman. "Everybody's real good to me, John." She turned to him. "Tommie don't miss me, does he?" It was wistful.
John tugged at something in his pocket. "He kind of misses you, I guess. But we're getting along fine!... I got these for you—so's you could see." He put a fat envelope in her fingers and she received it doubtingly. She held it up and looked at it.
"I don't know where they put my spectacles—I can't see very well."
"You don't need to see—not for them. Here—I'll show you." He took the envelope proudly and stiffly and drew out a card and held it toward her. "There you be!"
She took it in questioning fingers.
"Why, it's Mamie!"
She turned her face to Aunt Jane and held up the card to her: "That's my oldest girl—that's Mamie!" Her voice had a happy tone—with quick tears somewhere in it.
The man smiled broadly. "I've got another one!" He took it from the envelope and extended it. "And here's two more!" He held the group of pictures spread before him like a fan in his big hand and gazed at them.