According to the doctor's predictions, why can we infer that Johnsy is out of danger? A. She asks for a mirror.
B. She asks for more pillows.
C. She asks for a little broth.
D. She asks to see the ivy leaf.

The doctor invited Sue into the hallway.

"She has one chance in—let us say, ten," he said. "And that chance is for her to want to live. Your little lady has made up her mind that she's not going to get well. Whenever my patient begins to count the carriages in her funeral procession I subtract 50 percent from the curative power of medicines. If you can get her to take an interest in her appearance, or the new winter styles, I will promise you her chances will double. ". . .

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 of the window. What was there to count? There was only a bare, dreary yard to be seen, and the blank side of the brick house. An old ivy vine climbed half way up the brick wall.

"Six," Johnsy whispered. "Three days ago there were almost a hundred. It made my head ache to count them. But now it's easy. There goes another one. There are only five left now."

"Five what, dear? Tell your Sudie."

"Leaves. On the ivy vine. When the last one falls I must go, too. I've known that for three days. Didn't the doctor tell you?". . .

When Sue awoke the next morning she found Johnsy with dull, wide-open eyes staring at the drawn green shade.

"Pull it up; I want to see," she whispered.

Wearily, Sue obeyed.

But, lo! Even after the beating rain and fierce gusts of wind that had endured through the livelong night, there still stood out against the brick wall one ivy leaf. It was the last one on the vine.

"It is the last one," said Johnsy. "It will fall today, and I shall die at the same time."

The day wore away, and even through the twilight they could see the lone ivy leaf clinging to its stem against the wall. And then, as night fell the north wind was again loosed, while the rain still beat against the windows.

When it was light enough Johnsy commanded that the shade be raised.

The ivy leaf was still there.

Johnsy lay for a long time looking at it. And then she called to Sue, who was stirring her chicken broth over the gas stove.

"You may bring me a little broth now, and—no; bring me a hand-mirror first, and then pack some pillows about me, and I will sit up and watch you cook."