After the doctor had gone, Sue went into the workroom and cried. Then she went to Johnsy’s room with her drawing board, whistling a tune. Johnsy lay with her face toward the window. Sue stopped whistling, thinking she was asleep. She began making a drawing for a magazine story. Sue heard a low sound, several times repeated. She went quickly to the bedside. Johnsy’s eyes were open wide. She was looking out the window and counting backward. «Twelve,» she said, and a little later «eleven»; and then «ten» and «nine»; and then «eight» and «seven». Sue looked out the window. What was there to count? There was only an empty yard and the blank side of the house seven meters away. An old ivy vine climbed half way up the wall. The cold breath of autumn had taken leaves from the plant until its branches, almost bare, hung on the bricks. «What is it, dear?» asked Sue. «Six,» said Johnsy, quietly. «They are falling faster now. Three days ago there were almost a hundred. But now it is easy. There goes another one. There are only five left now.» «Five what, dear?» asked Sue. «Leaves. On the plant. When the last one falls I must go, too. I have known that for three days.» «Oh, I never heard of such a thing,» said Sue. «What have old ivy leaves to do with your getting well? Do not be silly. Try to eat some soup now. And let me go back to my drawing.» «You need not get any more wine,» said Johnsy, keeping her eyes fixed out the window. «There goes another one. No, I do not want any soup. That leaves just four. I want to see the last one fall before it gets dark. Then I will go, too.» «Johnsy, dear,» said Sue, «will you promise me to keep your eyes closed, and not look out the window until I am done working?» «Tell me as soon as you have finished,» said Johnsy, closing her eyes. «I want to see the last one fall. I am tired of waiting. I am tired of thinking.»