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When it was light enough, Johnsy ordered Sue to open the curtains. The vine leaf was still there.
Johnsy lay for a long time looking at it and then said:
"I've been a bad girl, Sue. I wish I hadn't been so wicked. Something has made that last leaf stay there to show me how wicked I was when I wanted to die. You may bring me a little soup now and some milk with a little port wine in it, and - no, bring me a hand-mirror first and pack some pillows about me, I want to sit and watch you cook."
The doctor came in the afternoon and said Johnsy was out of danger. "And now I must see another patient downstairs," he added. "His name's Behrman - some kind of artist, I believe. He's a weak old man and there's obviously no hope for him."
Next day Sue came to the bed where Johnsy lay and put one arm around her.
"I've something to tell you, white mouse," she said. "I got a note this morning. Mr Behrman died of pneumonia in hospital. He was only ill two days, so he didn't suffer long. The janitor found him in the morning of the first day in his room helpless with pain. His shoes and clothes were wet through and icy cold. They couldn't imagine where he had been on such a terrible night. And then they found a lantern still lighted, and a ladder that had been taken from its place, and some brushes lying here and there, and green and yellow, paint, and - look out of the window, dear, at the last leaf on the wall. Didn't you wonder why it never moved when the wind blew? Ah, darling, it's Behrman's masterpiece - he painted it there the night the last leaf fell."
