Later in the day, the doctor came, and Sue talked to him in the hallway. «Even chances,» said the doctor. «With good care, you will win. And now I must see another case I have in your building. Behrman, his name is — some kind of an artist, I believe. Pneumonia, too. He is an old, weak man and his case is severe. There is no hope for him; but he goes to the hospital today to ease his pain.» The next day, the doctor said to Sue: «She is out of danger. You won. Nutrition and care now — that is all.» Later that day, Sue came to the bed where Johnsy lay, and put one arm around her. «I have something to tell you, white mouse,» she said. «Mister Behrman died of pneumonia today in the hospital. He was sick only two days. They found him the morning of the first day in his room downstairs helpless with pain. His shoes and clothing were completely wet and icy cold. They could not imagine where he had been on such a terrible night. And then they found a lantern, still lighted. And they found a ladder that had been moved from its place. And art supplies and a painting board with green and yellow colors mixed on it. And look out the window, dear, at the last ivy leaf on the wall. Did you not wonder why it never moved when the wind blew? Ah, darling, it is Behrman’s masterpiece — he painted it there the night that the last leaf fell.»