"Yes," said Peggy, the dreamy look taking possession of her blue eyes; "and I s'pose some leaves their souls till they be too far gone; that be why I does want to hurry off to the heathen." "And what are you going to do to them?" "Only tell 'em who can cure their souls, sir. It do seem so dreadful for some on 'em to have to wait till I gets out at 'em." "So you mean to be a preacher? Are you a Salvation lass?" "Please, sir, I'm a servant-maid." Up went Peggy's chin at once. If she had been a duchess, she could not have owned it with greater pride. "And I'm in a real good place," she went on, with a little nod at him, "and I'm partickly anxious to get back as quick as ever as I can." "Well, we'll make a good job of you," said the doctor, "but I think if I were you, I'd stick to your place and leave the heathen alone." "'Tis what I looks forward to—the heathen," said Peggy; then she rapidly changed the subject. "I s'pose, sir, none of you gentlemen doctors is ever sick yourselves?" "Sometimes we are," said the doctor, laughing. "I never heerd tell of a sick doctor in the Bible," pursued Peggy meditatively; "sick captings, and kings, and women, and lots o' common folk, but no doctors that I remembers, but I daresay, sir, your souls is like other folk. And you can't doctor 'em yourselves, can you, sir?" "We think we can," the doctor said, with a laugh. "Ah," said Peggy, shaking her head; "but you can't, sir. 'Tisn't to be done by no one but Jesus Christ; the Bible says so. He be lookin' after souls, ain't He? And He don't want no one else to meddle with His work. I thinks sometimes that it be very gran' to be a doctor, for you and the Lord gets curin' together, and He gives you the bodies to see what you can do with 'em, and He takes the souls. But, please sir, I really thinks you're mistook to think you can cure your own soul." "Ah, well," said the doctor, moving off, "perhaps I am mistaken. I must think about it." It was a happy day to Peggy when her right hand and arm was free of its bandages. She straightway implored her nurse for ink and paper. "I have so many friends, Nurse, that I must let 'em know about me. And them in the country looks for letters, I can tell you. Why, when I first went away from London, I arsked the postman every time I see'd him if he'd got a letter for me, and I went on arskin' him till I got it, and then, oh my! Wasn't I proud and pleased!" Her first letter was to Ellen, and ran as follows:—