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Sue looked out of the window, but she could see nothing there to count. She could see only the dirty yard and the grey wall of the neighbouring house, with an old vine against it. There were only a few leaves on the vine now, and they were yellow and brown.
"What are you courting, Johnsy, dear?" Sue asked.
"Six," Johnsy said. "Three days ago. there were almost a hundred; it made me tired to count them all. But now it's easy. There goes another one. There are only five left now."
"Five what, dear? Tell me!"
"Leaves. On that vine. When the last leaf falls, 1 must go too."
In the same house there lived an old artist, Behrman by name. He was not a good artist. Sometimes he sold his paintings, but he never had any money. In the whole world he loved only two people, Johnsy and Sue, and he thought he had to take care of them. He thought that some day he would paint a masterpiece and they all would go away.
Sue told him about Johnsy. "She is seriously ill, her head is full of strange ideas. She counts the leaves on that old vine, and she thinks that when the last leaf fallB, ahe will go too."
Johnsy was sleeping when Sue came into the room with Behrman. They went up to the window and looked out. For five minutes Behrman looked at the vine. Then they looked at each other for a moment without saying a word and Behrman went out of the room.
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