"This is a little one--a kind of place of my own--where I could have them--when they were dismissed, you know--well enough to go home but not quite ready--in their minds, maybe.... I don't know as you ever thought--that it takes courage to start?" She regarded him mildly. "I can imagine it--yes." His tone was dry. She nodded. "I'd like to have a little home--not belonging to the hospital, but just to me, close by--where I could take 'em in, for a visit-like, till their courage had time to grow." "I see--a cucumber frame for courage." She looked up to see if he were making fun. But he was gazing thoughtfully into a teacup. "Poor folks have to get their courage somehow--and it's hard work--wastes a good deal," she said practically.... "And then sometimes, there's rich folks that don't want to go--when the time comes--" Her eyes twinkled with it. "I'd like to ask them to visit me sometimes." He was silent, looking into his teacup. "Have you finished?" he asked. "Is that all?" The little irony of the words danced across to her kindly. She sighed, and leaned back in her chair. "You made me tell you! I've never told anybody, before. I know it sounds foolish--having a home of my own!" He got up from his chair, and went toward a big desk. Then he paused and came back and stood by her chair, with one hand on it, looking down at her. "I never think anything you do is foolish! You know that!" Aunt Jane jumped a little. "Well--I think I'm foolish--a good many times!" He smiled and went over to the desk and drew out his check-book. "How much will it cost, do you suppose?" He looked over his shoulder to her. "I could get along with a little one," she said meekly. He smiled again, and filled in the check. "Make it ten thousand for a start." He blotted it carefully. "If it isn't enough, there's more where it came from." He patted the check-book with just a little happy touch of pride, and came across and laid the blue slip in her lap. "It is for another woman, you know," said Medfield. He moved across and stood by the fireplace, looking at her with frankly happy eyes. "What do you mean--by that?" said Aunt Jane. Her fingers seemed a little afraid of the blue slip in her lap. "Just that!" His face was quiet with the happiness shining in it--ready to break through at a word. "Just that. If some other woman comes to the House of Mercy, she is to have it--otherwise I take it back." Aunt Jane's fingers abandoned the check. It slipped to the floor. He came over and picked it up and placed it on the table beside her, and bent a little to her. "I want to give you a larger home, Jane. I want to give you all I have.... Won't you come and live with me?" "Oh--dear!" said Aunt Jane. "That's what I meant." He was smiling, but the shadow crossed his face. "I can't!" said Aunt Jane. She pushed the check from her, and opened the little bag, searching--with half-blinded fingers for the other.