"Everybody here seems to think that Doctor Galen is It, and so do I," she went on. "I read Doctor Beatty what Doctor Galen said about him, and you ought to have seen him. He looked pleased as he could be and he smiled--he tried not to--and he positively blushed. Then he began to talk about my foot, but my foot is not worth talking about now. It is almost well. I go about quite easily with my crutches and Uncle John takes me for a walk every morning, before he goes downtown. It makes him late in getting down, but he doesn't seem to mind. Uncle John and I have got quite fond of each other. Really, Fox, Uncle John is the best person here. He is so kind and thoughtful and, Fox, so polite! His politeness seems to be a part of him. Yes, I am very fond of Uncle John. Of course, I am fond of Cousin Patty, too, but I like Uncle John more. "And there are other ways I have of going out. Dick Torrington has come in every afternoon since I hurt my foot, and, now that I can get about so well, he takes me for a walk. It's very slow business for him, of course, but he doesn't seem to mind, either. It's astonishing how many people don't seem to mind. Dick is _very_ nice and kind and satisfying. He reminds me of you in many ways. He always treats me like a person,--as if I were as old as he is,--not as if I was only a little girl and of no consequence, as Everett Morton seems to think. Dick seems to _like_ to take me out. He is going to take his examinations for Harvard this June, and he is a little afraid he won't pass. He failed in a good many of his preliminaries--is that spelled right?--last year. He isn't very quick at his studies. He says so himself, so he knows it. I hope he will pass and I wish I could help him. Uncle John says Dick's all right. Uncle John takes me to walk again when he gets back, so that I have walking enough for a little girl with crutches. I shan't need them very much longer, but Doctor Beatty wants me to be careful and not to climb trees for quite a while. There aren't any good trees here. "I hope you know, Fox, that I am very glad you and Henrietta are living in our house and that I appreciate it. Write me about all the old places, will you?" Fox smiled with amusement at himself to find that he felt a distinct pang at Sally's account of Dick. If Dick was good to her there was no reason in the world why he should not take her walking as much as he would. But he, Fox, missed her companionship. Sally was one to be missed.