"Yes?"
"She's a woman that came the same day you did," she said safely.
"Oh!" His mind seemed to be looking back—to the day when he came to the House of Mercy, perhaps.
Aunt Jane did not disturb him.
Presently he took up his pencil with a little sigh. "What were you saying about a Mrs. Pelton?" he asked.
"She came the day you did and she's sitting up! And her case was a good deal worse than yours." She was looking at him almost severely.
"But— She had her operation sooner—than I did! I had to wait—almost a week—You know I had to wait!" He was like a sick boy—with his excuses and his injured look.
"Yes—she was operated on—a day or two sooner—maybe. But she's acted better than you have, every way." She looked at him over her spectacles. "And she's a little mite of a thing. Don't come up to your shoulder hardly."
He smiled ruefully and took up the pencil. "I am going to try—— What about this Mrs. Pelton? What would you do for her if you were as badly off—as I am?"