Toward winter a cold stranger entered Greenwich Village. He walked around touching one person here and another there with his icy fingers. He was a bad sickness. Doctors called Pneumonia. Mr Pneumonia touched Johnsy with his cold fingers. She lay on her bed almost without moving, and she looked through the window of the wall next to hers.
One morning, the busy doctor spoke to Sue alone in the hall, where Johnsy could not hear.
'She has a very small chance', he said. ' She has a chance ,if she wants to live. Your little lady has decided that she is not going to get well. Is there something that is troubling her?'
'She always wanted to go to Italy and paint a picture of the Bay of Naples' said Sue.
' Paint! Not Paint. Is there anything worth being troubled about? A man?'
'A man ?' said Sue. ' Is a man worth -No doctor. There is not a man.'
'It is weekness', said the doctor. ' I will do all I know how to do. But when a sick person begins to feel he's going to die, half of my work is useless.'
After the doctor had gone, Sue went into the workroom to cry. Then she walked into Johnsy's room. She carried some of her painting materials, and she was singing.
Johnsy lay there,very thin and very quiet. Her face was turned towards the window. Sue stopped singing, thinking that Johnsy was asleep.
As she worked she heard a low sound,again and again. She quickly went to the bedside. Johnsy's eyes were wide open. She was looking out of the window and counting- counting back.
'
Twelve', she said; a little later, 'Eleven'; and then,'Ten',and, 'Nine'; and then, 'Eight', and, 'Seven', almost together.
Sue looked out if the window. What was there to count? There was only the side wall of the next house, a short distance away. The wall had no window . An old, tree grew against the wall. The cold breath of winter had already touched it. Almost all the leaves had fallen from its dark branches.
'What is it,dear?' asked Sue.
'Six', said Johnsy, in a voice still lower. 'They're falling faster now. Three days ago there were almost a hundred. It hurt my head to count them. But now it's easy. There goes another one. There are only five now.'
'Five what, dear? Tell your Sue'.
'Leaves. On the tree. 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 a thing', said Sue. ' It doesn't have any sense in it. What does an old tree have to do with you? Or with your getting well? The doctor told me your chances for getting well. He said you have very good chances! Try to eat a little now and then I'll go back to work. And then I can sell my picture, and then I can buy something more for you to eat to make you strong.'
'You Don't have to buy anything for me,' said Johnsy. She still looked out of the window. 'There goes another. No,I don't want anything to eat. Now there are four. I want to see the last one fall before night. Then I'll go too.'
'Couldn't you work in the other room?' asked Johnsy coldly.
'I'd rather be here by you', said Sue. 'And I don't want you to look at those leaves'.
'Tell me as soon as you have finished', said Johnsy. She closed her eyes and layed white and still. 'Because I want to see the last leave fall . I have done enough waiting. I have done enough thinking. I want to go sailing down, down, like one of those leaves.
A/N: What will happen to Johnsy? Will she survive or die when the last leaf falls?
Stay tuned for the next chapter!
