For a very long time, Johnsy lay on her bed, looking at the leaf. Then she called Sue, who was making chicken broth over the stove.
"Sudie, I have not been a good girl," said Johnsy. "See, something has made that last leaf cling on there, to show me how wicked I was.
Wanting to die is bad. Please bring me some broth- no, first bring me a hand-mirror."
And hour later she said, "Sudie, some day I hope to paint the Bay of Naples."
Sue waited for the doctor's visit.
"Things are looking up," said the doctor. "With good nursing, your friend will live. Now I have to go to another case downstairs. Behrman- his name is. Sort of an artist. Pneumonia too. The attack is acute, as he is an old man. No hope for him. But I will take him to the hospital so that he is more comfortable."
With new hope for Johnsy, Sue devoted her time to nursing and caring for her.
The next day, the doctor said, "She is out of danger now. Now all that is needed is good care and nutrition."
That afternoon Sue found Johnsy, still on her bed, but happily knitting a scarf. Her eyes welled up. She went to her and hugged her.
"I have something to tell you, my dear," Sue said. "It about Mr. Behrman. He died of pneumonia. In the hospital today. He was sick only two days. The janitor found him in his room downstairs, in terrible pain, on the first day. He was icy cold, and his clothes and shoes were very wet. They couldn't understand where he had been on such a terrible night. And then they found a lantern, and a ladder, scattered brushes, and a palette with green and yellow colours mixed on it, and - look out the window, dear, at the last ivy leaf on the wall. Didn't you wonder why it never fluttered or moved when the wind blew? Ah, darling, it's Behrman's masterpiece - he painted it there the night that the last leaf fell."
