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6., The Last Leaf, In a little district west, of Washington Square, the streets have run, crazy and broken, themselves into small, strips called 'places'., These 'places' make, strange angles and, curves. One street, crosses itself a time or, two. An artist once, discovered a valuable, possibility in this street. Suppose a collector with a bill for paints, paper and, canvas should, in traversing' this route, suddenly meet himself coming back,, without a centhaving been paid on account!, So, to quaint old Greenwich Village the art people soon came prowling,, hunting for north windows and eighteenth-century gables* and Dutch attics, and low rents. Then they imported some pewter mugs and a chafing dish or, two from Sixth Avenue, and became a 'colony., 5, At the top of a squatty, three-storey brick Sue and Johnsy had their studio., "Johnsy' was familiar for Joanna. One was from Maine; the other from, California. They had met at the table d'hôte of an Eighth Street 'Delmonico's',, and found their tastes in art, chicory salad and bishop sleeves so congenial', that the joint studio resulted., That was in May. In November a cold, unseen stranger, whom the doctors, called Pneumonia, stalked about the colony, touching one here and there, with his icy fingers. Over on the east side this ravager" strode boldly, smiting, his victims by scores, but his feet trod slowly through the maze of the narrow, and moss-grown'places'., Mr Pneumonia was not what you would call a chivalric" old gentleman. A, 8, 10, 89

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12, mite“ of a little woman with blood thinned by California zephyrs" was hardly, fair, 11, for the red-fisted, short-breathed old duffer. But Johnsy he smote', game, and she lay, scarcely moving, on her painted iron bedstead, looking through, the small Dutch window-panes at the blank side of the next brick house., One morning the busy doctor invited Sue into the hallway with a shaggy, gray, eyebrow., "She has one chance in, let us say, ten," he said, as he shook down the, -, mercury in his clinical thermometer. "And that chance is for her to want to, live. This way people have of lining-up on the side of the undertaker makes, the entire pharmacopoeia" look silly. Your little lady has made up her mind, that she's not going to get well. Has she anything on her mind?", "She - she wanted to paint the Bay of Naples some day" said Sue., "Paint? - Bosh! Has she anything on her mind worth thinking twice -a man, for instance?", 14, "A man?" said Sue, with a jew's-harp twang" in her voice. "Is a man worth –, 15, but, no, doctor; there is nothing of the kind.", "Well, it is the weakness, then," said the doctor. “I will do all that science, so far, as it may filter through my efforts, can accomplish. But whenever my patient, begins to count the carriages in her, funeral procession I subtract 50 per, cent from the curative power of, medicines. If you will get her to ask, one question about the new winter, styles in cloak sleeves I will promise, you a one-in-five chance for her,, instead of one in ten.", After the doctor had gone Sue went, into the workroom and cried a, Japanese napkin to a pulp. Then she, swaggered" into Johnsy's room with, her drawing board, whistling, ragtime"., Johnsy lay, scarcely making a ripple, under the bedclothes, with her face, towards the window. Sue stopped, 16, 0, Scanned by CamScanner

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whistling, thinking she was asleep., She arranged her board and began a pen-and-ink drawing to illustrate a, magazine story. Young artists must pave their way to Art by drawing pictures, for magazine stories that young authors write to pave their way to Literature., As Sue was sketching a pair of elegant horseshow riding trousers and a, monocle" of the figure of the hero, an Idaho cowboy, she heard a low sound,, several times repeated. She went quickly to the bedside., 18, Johnsy's eyes were open wide. She was looking out of the window and, counting- counting backward., "Twelve", she said, and little later "eleven"; and then "ten", and “nine"; and, then "eight" and“seven", almost together., Sue look solicitously" out of the window. Whatwas there to count? There was, only a bare, dreary yard to be seen, and the blank side of the brick house, twenty feet away. An old, old ivy vine, gnarled and decayed at the roots,, climbed half way up the brick wall. The cold breath of autumn had stricken its, leaves from the vine until its skeleton branches clung, almost bare, to the, crumbling bricks., 19, "What is it, dear?" asked Sue., "Six", said Johnsy, in almost a whisper. "They're falling faster now. Three days, ago there were almost a hundred. It made my headache to count them. But, now it's easy. There goes another one. There are only five left now.", "Five what, dear? Tell your Sudie.", "Leaves. On the ivy vine. When the last one falls I must go, too. I've known that, for three days. Didn't the doctortell 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, exactly what he said, almost as good a chance as we have in New York when we ride on the street, 1., 20, - let's see, he said the chances were ten to one! Why, that's, -, 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 energy, drink for her sick child, and pork chops for her greedy self.", 91, Jlaine u Dy CaiTIOcanner

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"You needn't get any more energy drink,", said Johnsy, keeping her eyes fixed out of, the window. “There goes another. No, I, don't want any broth. That leaves just, four. I want to see the last one fall before, it gets dark. Then l'll go, too.", "Johnsy, dear," said Sue, bending over her,, "will you promise me to keep your eyes, closed, and not look out the window, until I am done working? I must hand, those drawings in by tomorrow. I need, the light, or I would draw the shade, down.", "Couldn't you draw in the other room?", asked Johnsy, coldly., "Id rather be here by you," said Sue., "Beside, I don't wantyou to keep looking at those silly ivy leaves.", "Tell me as soon as you have finished," said Johnsy, closing her eyes, and lying, white and still as fallen statue, "because I want to see the last one fall. I'm tired, of waiting. I'm tired of thinking. I want to turn loose my hold on everything,, and go sailing down, down, just like one of those poor, tired leaves.", "Try to sleep," said Sue. "I must call Behrman up to be my model for the old, hermit miner. I'll not be gone a minute. Don't try to move until I come back.", Old Behrman was a painter who lived on the ground floor beneath them. He, was past sixty and had a Michael Angelo's Moses beard curling down from the, head of a satyr" along with the body of an imp. Behrman was a failure in art., Forty years he had wielded the brush without getting near enough to touch, the hem of his Mistress's robe. He had been always about to paint a, masterpiece, but had never yet begun it. For several years, he had painted, nothing except now and then a daub“ in the line of commerce or advertising., He earned a little by serving as a model to those young artists in the colony, who could not pay the price of a professional. He drank to excess, and stil, talked of his coming masterpiece. For the rest he was a fierce little old man,, who scoffed terribly at softness in any one, and who regarded himself as, especial mastiff“-in-waiting to protect the two young artists in the studio, 21, 22, 92, Scanned by CamScanner

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above., Sue found Behrman smelling strongly of juniper berries in his dimly lighted, den below. In one corner was a blank canvas on an easel that had been, waiting there for twenty-five years to receive the first line of the masterpiece., She told him of Johnsy's fancy, and how she feared she would, indeed, light, and fragile" as a leaf herself, float away, when her slight hold upon the world, grew weaker., Old Behrman, with his red eyes plainly streaming, shouted his contempt and, derision for such idiotic imaginings., 26, 27, "What!" he cried. "Is there people in the world meet their foolishness to die, because leaves they drop offfrom a confounded vine? I have not heard of such, a thing. No, I will not pose as a model for your fool hermit-dunderhead". Why, do you allow those silly businesses to come in the brain of her? Ach, that poor, little Miss Johnsy.", "She is very ill and weak," said Sue, "and the fever has left her mind morbid", and full of strange fancies. Very well, Mr Behrman, if you do not care to pose, for me, you needn't. But I think you are a horrid old- old flibbertigibbet"", 29, "You are just like a woman!" yelled Behrman. "Who said I will not pose? Go on., I come meet you. For half an hour I have been trying to say that I am ready to, pose. Gotta! This is not any place in which one so good as Miss Johnsy shall lie, sick. Some day Iwill paint a masterpiece, and we shall all go away. Gotta! yes.", Johnsy was sleeping when they went upstairs. Sue pulled the shade down to, the window-sill, and motioned Behrman into the other room. In there they, peered out the window fearfully at the ivy vine. Then they looked at each, other for a moment without speaking. A persistent", cold rain was falling,, mingled with snow. Behrman, in his old blue shirt, took his seat as the hermit, miner on an upturned kettle for a rock., When Sue awoke from an hour's sleep the next morning she found Johnsy, with dull, wide-open eyes staring at the drawn green shade., "Pull it up; I want to see," she ordered, in a whisper., Wearily Sue obeyed., 31, But, lo! After the beating rain and fierce gusts of wind that had endured, through the livelong night, there yet stood out against the brick wall one ivy, 93, Scanned by CamScanner