They broke off from picture-books or blocks, to look up and call out and pass the word along. Then they chanted it together.... And the newcomer in the ward, a boy lying with bandaged face and eyes half closed, turned a first curious, questioning look--to find the white-capped face smiling down at him. At the top of the house, at either end of the long corridor--in Dr. Carmon's operating-room and here in the Children's Ward--Aunt Jane was not the implacable personage that ruled elsewhere in the hospital. She beamed down the ward. A dozen hands reached out to her and she smiled to them and nodded and scolded a little and fussed and drew them all into a happy sense that this was home--and Aunt Jane a kind of new and glorified mother for little children. All the sick ones and lame ones, and the bruised ones and bandaged ones were Aunt Jane's children-- It did not seem like a hospital, as one looked down the sunny room, so much as a place where children were gathered in; pinched faces lighted up--for the first time in life, perhaps--with round, shrewd, loving smiles for Aunt Jane; delicate bandaged faces looked out at her wistfully and happily; and laughing, rosy ones turned to her. There were no unhappy ones there. "Children suffer and don't know," was Aunt Jane's comment. Sometimes as she stood among them she marvelled a little at the quiet unconscious force that ignored pain, or adjusted itself to twinges. Some child, with a look almost of impatience, would shift a bandaged leg or foot to an easier position, as it listened to the story she was telling or entered into some game of her contriving. Sometimes it was a guessing game that was played by the whole ward at once--a kind of twenty questions, shouted at her as she came in, her hands held carefully behind her.... And, curiously, it was always some little one that guessed first; some feeble one, just beginning to take notice, that had a glimpse of Aunt Jane's broad back as she turned casually with a serene unconscious look, or moved a little and revealed the hidden thing behind her. The whole ward was interested this morning in Jimmie Sullivan's new leg. It was a frame-leg that got in the way when he walked and tripped him up. He was a little proud of it, but more annoyed, as he came hurrying down the ward to meet her. Aunt Jane adjusted her spectacles and looked. "Well, well!" she said. Jimmie glanced down at it, a little proud and abashed. "It can't walk," he admitted. "Want me to carry you?" asked Aunt Jane. "No, sir!" He slipped a proud hand into hers and stumbled happily and awkwardly along. Aunt Jane moved toward a bed where a child lay strapped on his back, hands and feet and head held fast, only his eyes free to turn to her with a smile. "How's Alec?" said Aunt Jane. "All right," replied the child. "You going to tell a story?" "Well--maybe. I don't know as I know any new stories," she said slowly. She considered it.