"I suppose you know—" He stopped a moment, as if he could not quite speak of the thing that was in his mind. "I think you made me—come back," he said slowly.
"It makes a difference whether somebody cares," admitted Aunt Jane.
"Did you care?" The sharp, pointed face was turned to her. "Did you care—!"
"Yes, I cared," said Aunt Jane.
"But—" He looked at her, bewildered, and was silent—looking before him.
Aunt Jane regarded him and smiled. "There didn't seem to be anybody but me—to care," she said cheerfully.
"No—there wasn't."
"But I see now that there's a good many of them—" She motioned to the flowers. "I don't know as I ever see anybody have more flowers the first week."
"Flowers don't care—the people those came from don't care!"