Aunt Jane

by Jennette Lee

But Dr. Carmon had bent to the floor and picked up the cap. He was holding it and looking at her. "How old are you, Aunt Jane?" he said sternly.

Aunt Jane, out of the maze of her hair, looked up. "I am forty-five years old," she said. "Give me my cap!"

"Say, 'please,'" said Dr. Carmon gravely, holding it at arm's length.

From the beds, the children looked on with shining eyes.

Aunt Jane looked at the cap—and at the child in her arms—and felt the eyes encircling her—and smiled a little.

"Please," she said meekly, and her hand reached up.

But Dr. Carmon held it still at arm's length. "Say, 'please, Frederic,'" he insisted.... Not even the nearest bed could have guessed the words that went with the laughing gesture of the hand holding the cap.

But Aunt Jane's face flushed swiftly.

She gathered the child in her arms and carried her to her bed and put her down gently. Then her hands caught up the tumbled hair and fastened it in place and smoothed it down, and she came placidly back to Dr. Carmon.