"That's right. Eat and sleep. And hope don't hurt--a little of it." "Aunt Jane?" The voice had a sharp note. The invalid was resting against the pillows that had been raised on the bed. "Yes?" Aunt Jane turned back. "Hasn't he been to see me--once--my husband?" There was a shamed, half-imperious note in the words. Aunt Jane sat down comfortably by the bed and looked at her. Then she shook her head chidingly.... "I've never seen a sick person yet that wasn't unreasonable," she said. The woman's face relaxed. "I know," she said apologetically, "but when one is sick the days are long." "You told me, that was four-five days ago," said Aunt Jane, "that you didn't want to see him or hear his name mentioned. At least, that's what I understood." The woman was not looking at her. "So when he's been here, time and again--three times a day, some days--I've told him you couldn't see anybody--not even your husband.... I thought that was what you wanted." "Yes," said the woman faintly. Aunt Jane nodded. "And now you're acting hurt and keeping yourself from getting well." The woman flushed a little. "I don't think I am." "Yes, you are," said Aunt Jane comfortably. "Of course it don't make any real difference. You'll get well sometime.... Only it seems foolish. Well, I must be going on my rounds. Keep up good courage." She stood up and moved toward the door. "Aunt Jane." "Yes." "You haven't time to stop a few minutes?" "Why, yes. I've got plenty of time, if you want me. There's two operations this morning, but everything's ready." "Two operations?" The woman's lips grew white. "One's a man with five children. Got to lose his leg.... His wife's plucky. She's gone right to work earning money. But she's coming this morning to be with him for the operation. She says he'll stand it better. I guess she's right. They seem pretty close together.... That's the only thing I really envy in this world," said Aunt Jane slowly, ... "having a husband that loves you and cares." She sat quietly watching the locust leaves outside the window. They shimmered in the light. The woman raised a hand. "You don't understand," she said. "Like enough not," said Aunt Jane. "It's hard work understanding other folks' feelings. I don't more'n half understand mine.... I suppose you were kind of disappointed in him...? "I don't know--" The words faltered. "They be, mostly." "Is every one unhappily married?" the voice flashed at her. "Well, I didn't say just that. But most of 'em find it different from what they expected--men being men.... Women are women, too. I'll have to go now. It's time for the man, and she'll be waiting in the parlor. I told her to wait there." She rose slowly. "You don't want to see him, if he should happen to come to-day?" "No." The lips trembled a little and closed over the word. "All right," said Aunt Jane soothingly. "Take plenty of time to get well. He can wait. He's a good kind to wait, I can see that." She had drifted out.