"Leaves.

On the ivy vine. When the last one falls I must go, too. I've known that for

three days. Didn't the doctor tell you?"

"Oh,

I never heard of such nonsense," complained Sue, with magnificent scorn.

"What have old ivy leaves to do with your getting well? And you used to

love that vine so, you naughty girl. Don't be a goosey. Why, the doctor told me

this morning that your chances for getting well real soon were - let's see

exactly what he said - he said the chances were ten to one! Why, that's almost

as good a chance as we have in New York when we ride on the street cars or walk

past a new building. Try to take some broth now, and let Sudie go back to her

drawing, so she can sell the editor man with it, and buy port wine for her sick

child, and pork chops for her greedy self."

"You

needn't get any more wine," said Johnsy, keeping her eyes fixed out the

window. "There goes another. No, I don't want any bro...