Cousins -- Juvenile fiction; Family life -- Juvenile fiction; Orphans -- Juvenile fiction
“Oh, what?” and Rose caught up the book which Mrs. Clara had thrown down
with a disgusted look.
Though Dr. Alec was forty, the boyish love of teasing was not yet dead
in him, and, being much elated at his victory, he could not resist the
temptation of shocking Mrs. Clara by suggesting dreadful possibilities,
so he answered, half in earnest, half in jest, “Physiology, Rose.
Wouldn't you like to be a little medical student, with Uncle Doctor for
teacher, and be ready to take up his practice when he has to stop? If
you agree, I'll hunt up my old skeleton to-morrow.”
That was too much for Aunt Clara, and she hastily departed, with her
mind in a sad state of perturbation about Mrs. Van Tassel's new costume
and Rose's new study.
Chapter 19--Brother Bones
Rose accepted her uncle's offer, as Aunt Myra discovered two or three
days later. Coming in for an early call, and hearing voices in the
study, she opened the door, gave a cry and shut it quickly, looking a
good deal startled. The Doctor appeared in a moment, and begged to know
what the matter was.
“How can you ask when that long box looks so like a coffin I thought it
was one, and that dreadful thing stared me in the face as I opened the
door,” answered Mrs. Myra, pointing to the skeleton that hung from the
chandelier cheerfully grinning at all beholders.
“This is a medical college where women are freely admitted, so walk in,
madam, and join the class if you'll do me the honour,” said the Doctor,
waving her forward with his politest bow.
“Do, auntie, it's perfectly splendid,” cried Rose's voice, and Rose's
blooming face was seen behind the ribs of the skeleton, smiling and
nodding in the gayest possible manner.
“What are you doing, child?” demanded Aunt Myra, dropping into a chair
and staring about her.
“Oh, I'm learning bones to-day, and I like it so much. There are twelve
ribs, you know, and the two lower ones are called floating ribs, because
they are not fastened to the breastbone. That's why they go in so easily
if you lace tight and squeeze the lungs and heart in the let me see,
what was that big word oh, I know thoracic cavity,” and Rose beamed with
pride as she aired her little bit of knowledge.
“Do you think that is a good sort of thing for her to be poking over?
She is a nervous child, and I'm afraid it will be bad for her,” said
Aunt Myra, watching Rose as she counted vertebrae, and waggled a
hip-joint in its socket with an inquiring expression.
“An excellent study, for she enjoys it, and I mean to teach her how
to manage her nerves so that they won't be a curse to her, as many a
woman's become through ignorance or want of thought. To make a mystery
or terror of these things is a mistake, and I mean Rose shall understand
and respect her body so well that she won't dare to trifle with it as
most women do.”
“And she really likes it?”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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