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5
same poems and salads, they became friends – very good friends – and
they decided to live together and paint pictures and try to become great
artists. They didn't have much money, but they were young and full of
hope, and life seemed good to them.
That was in May. In November, a cold gentleman that the doc-
tors called Mr. Pneumonia came to New York. He went into a few
houses in the streets and squares where the rich people lived, but on the
East Side he visited almost every family. He didn't go near Sue, but he
put his cold hands on little Johnsy, and now she lay in her bed and
looked out of the window at the grey wall of the next house. She was
not interested in anything; she spoke less every day, and every day
there was less hope in her eyes.
One morning the doctor called Sue into the corridor and closed
the door. "She is worse," he said, "and her life is in danger. She has
only one chance to live. And that chance is that she must want to live.
I'll do everything I can, of course, but I can do nothing without my pa-
tient's help. She is seriously ill, and she isn't interested in anything. If
you can make her ask one question: аbout food, or about clothes, or
about her favourite picture, she will have a much better chance to live."
The doctor went away, and Sue stood in the corridor and cried. I
mustn't cry!" she thought at last. "She mustn't know how seriously ill
she is!" And she stopped crying and washed her eyes with cold water
and went back into their room with a smile on her face.
"The doctor says you must have some soup, and you must drink
warm milk and eat fruit," she began, but Johnsy wasn't listening. She
was looking out of the window, and she was counting. Sue could hear
the numbers: "Twelve," then, after a minute, "Eleven," and after an-
other minute, "Ten, nine," together.
Sue looked out of the window, but she could see nothing to
count
there. She could see only the dirty yard and the grey wall of the next
house, with an old vine on it. There were only a few leaves on the vine
now, and they were yellow and brown.
"What are you counting, Johnsy dear?" Sue asked.
"Eight," Johnsy said. "Three days ago there were almost a hun-
dred; I couldn't count them all. But now it's easy. There are only eight."
Eight what, dear? Tell me!"
"Leaves. On that vine. When the last leaf falls, I must go too."
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"Nonsense!" Sue said angrily. "Those old leaves are only old
leaves; the vine loses all of its leaves every autumn. But you – the doc-
tor says you have a good chance – the doctor is sure you will soon be
well again. Try to rest, Johnsy, and don't think about those old leaves! I
must finish my picture. If I can sell it, I'll buy you some nice fruit."
"Don't buy any fruit, I don't want anything at all," Johnsy said,
and she seemed very tired. "I don't want to think, and I don't want to
wait. I am very tired, and I only want to go down, down, down – where
I can rest, at last."
"Don't be foolish!" Sue said. "These strange ideas come to you
because you are ill. Please, Johnsy, sleep now, if you can. I must run to
Behrman and ask him to be my model. I'll be back in a few minutes."
And she ran out of the room.
When Behrman was a young man, he decided to become a great
artist. For forty years he tried, but he did not even become a good artist.
Now he was more than sixty. Sometimes he sold his paintings, but he
never had any money, because he drank. In the whole world, he loved
only two people – Johnsy and Sue, and he thought he had to take care
of them. "I'll paint a masterpiece," he often told them. "And then we'll
go away from these dirty little rooms!"
When Sue told him about Johnsy, Behrman was very angry.
"Why didn't you take better care of her?" he shouted. "I'll never be a
model for your pictures! Poor, poor Johnsy!"
"She is so ill," Sue said. "And her head is full of strange ideas.
She counts the leaves on that old vine, and she thinks that when the last
leaf falls, she will go too. All right, Mr. Behrman, if you don't want to
be my model..."
"Who said I won't be your model?" Behrman shouted. "Women
are so foolish! Come, quickly! Johnsy is lying ill in bed, and you're
standing here and talkingl"
Johnsy was sleeping when Sue came into the room with Behr-
man. They went to the window and looked out. For five minutes Behr-
man was looking at the vine, then he went to the door and went away
without a word.
During the night, a cold rain began to fall, and the wind became
stronger and louder. Sue sat near Johnsy's bed; she did not sleep all
night. Very early in the morning, she saw that Johnsy's eyes were open,
same poems and salads, they became friends – very good friends – and "Nonsense!" Sue said angrily. "Those old leaves are only old
they decided to live together and paint pictures and try to become great leaves; the vine loses all of its leaves every autumn. But you – the doc-
artists. They didn't have much money, but they were young and full of tor says you have a good chance – the doctor is sure you will soon be
hope, and life seemed good to them. well again. Try to rest, Johnsy, and don't think about those old leaves! I
That was in May. In November, a cold gentleman that the doc- must finish my picture. If I can sell it, I'll buy you some nice fruit."
tors called Mr. Pneumonia came to New York. He went into a few "Don't buy any fruit, I don't want anything at all," Johnsy said,
houses in the streets and squares where the rich people lived, but on the and she seemed very tired. "I don't want to think, and I don't want to
East Side he visited almost every family. He didn't go near Sue, but he wait. I am very tired, and I only want to go down, down, down – where
put his cold hands on little Johnsy, and now she lay in her bed and I can rest, at last."
looked out of the window at the grey wall of the next house. She was "Don't be foolish!" Sue said. "These strange ideas come to you
not interested in anything; she spoke less every day, and every day because you are ill. Please, Johnsy, sleep now, if you can. I must run to
there was less hope in her eyes. Behrman and ask him to be my model. I'll be back in a few minutes."
One morning the doctor called Sue into the corridor and closed And she ran out of the room.
the door. "She is worse," he said, "and her life is in danger. She has When Behrman was a young man, he decided to become a great
only one chance to live. And that chance is that she must want to live. artist. For forty years he tried, but he did not even become a good artist.
I'll do everything I can, of course, but I can do nothing without my pa- Now he was more than sixty. Sometimes he sold his paintings, but he
tient's help. She is seriously ill, and she isn't interested in anything. If never had any money, because he drank. In the whole world, he loved
you can make her ask one question: аbout food, or about clothes, or only two people – Johnsy and Sue, and he thought he had to take care
about her favourite picture, she will have a much better chance to live." of them. "I'll paint a masterpiece," he often told them. "And then we'll
The doctor went away, and Sue stood in the corridor and cried. I go away from these dirty little rooms!"
mustn't cry!" she thought at last. "She mustn't know how seriously ill When Sue told him about Johnsy, Behrman was very angry.
she is!" And she stopped crying and washed her eyes with cold water "Why didn't you take better care of her?" he shouted. "I'll never be a
and went back into their room with a smile on her face. model for your pictures! Poor, poor Johnsy!"
"The doctor says you must have some soup, and you must drink "She is so ill," Sue said. "And her head is full of strange ideas.
warm milk and eat fruit," she began, but Johnsy wasn't listening. She She counts the leaves on that old vine, and she thinks that when the last
was looking out of the window, and she was counting. Sue could hear leaf falls, she will go too. All right, Mr. Behrman, if you don't want to
the numbers: "Twelve," then, after a minute, "Eleven," and after an- be my model..."
other minute, "Ten, nine," together. "Who said I won't be your model?" Behrman shouted. "Women
Sue looked out of the window, but she could see nothing to count are so foolish! Come, quickly! Johnsy is lying ill in bed, and you're
there. She could see only the dirty yard and the grey wall of the next standing here and talkingl"
house, with an old vine on it. There were only a few leaves on the vine Johnsy was sleeping when Sue came into the room with Behr-
now, and they were yellow and brown. man. They went to the window and looked out. For five minutes Behr-
"What are you counting, Johnsy dear?" Sue asked. man was looking at the vine, then he went to the door and went away
"Eight," Johnsy said. "Three days ago there were almost a hun- without a word.
dred; I couldn't count them all. But now it's easy. There are only eight." During the night, a cold rain began to fall, and the wind became
Eight what, dear? Tell me!" stronger and louder. Sue sat near Johnsy's bed; she did not sleep all
"Leaves. On that vine. When the last leaf falls, I must go too." night. Very early in the morning, she saw that Johnsy's eyes were open,
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