"I don't see why not." The nurse glanced again, a little puzzled, down the room.
"Well, I don't know why not," said Aunt Jane. "Seems as if it would be the same.... But it isn't! When it's in water somehow you know it's safe—your rose.... You know it's going to keep—just as long as it can; and you look at it—kind of on the outside. But when you have it in your hand—it's all there! Maybe you know it can't last very long and you just take it in all over——"
The nurse laughed out.
"Yes, I know that sounds foolish," Aunt Jane nodded. "But we don't any of us know just what happens to us." She was looking down the ward as if she saw something beyond the beds and the sun shining in on them.
The nurse gathered up the bits of leaves and the stems and litter from the floor and table and threw them on the wheel-tray and pushed it from the room.
The children's eyes watched it go and returned to their blossoms.
Jimmie Sullivan had clumped over to Aunt Jane, carrying his carnation. His new leg worked better to-day. He reached up an arm and Aunt Jane bent her ear.
She listened and shook her head. "No, I can't tell stories to-day. I'm going to hold Susie a little while, and then I've got my work to do. I can't be bothering with you children all the time!"
She went over to the bed where the crimson rose was and held out her arms. The child climbed into them and laughed. She was a gay little thing—not four years old. To-morrow she would be sitting up and the next day she would go home.
Aunt Jane knew the home.... The father and mother drunk, perhaps. The child had been broken, between them, and had come to the House of Mercy for repairs.... She held her in her arms and rocked a little—and thought.... Something must be done to protect the child.... Dr. Carmon must do something. He always did things—if he had to. Aunt Jane rocked back and forth, thinking. She must take him when he was in good humor—to-morrow morning perhaps.