Children's stories; Girls -- Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction
"You're too bad to laugh at me." And Jessie tried to pout, but it
was too hard work, so she gave up the attempt and laughed instead.
"No, it's the garret at your house, Alan, with all the old
spinning wheels and warming pans. Some day, when I get my cats,
I'll come back here to live, see if I don't." And Jessie nodded
with decision as she started up Cob once more.
"Oh, dear! Next year doesn't mean much fun for me," groaned Polly.
"I shall have to begin Latin and Greek and all sorts of dreadful
things, so as to get ready for college."
"Then you are really going," said Jessie. "What makes you do it,
if you don't want to?"
"It's been the family plan ever since I was a baby," said Polly;
"and there's no use in trying to change it. Besides, I don't think
I mind it much, or shan't when I once get there. I want to know a
few things when. I'm grown up, even if I'm not a lawyer or a
doctor,--but I'm going to leave that for Alan,"
"Don't worry about that, Polly," said Alan. "At present rate of
progress, if I lose a month or two of school every winter, I
shouldn't get through college till long after you were dead and
out of the way. And then, I don't think I want to be a doctor,
anyway."
"Now, Alan," retorted Polly; "that's not quite fair of you, when
you know how my heart is set on having you. a splendid doctor, and
in time taking papa's place. I've told you, time and time again,
that if I had a brother, he would have to be one; and, as long as
I haven't, you're the next best thing. You'd make such a splendid
one, too. I know, for I asked papa if you wouldn't, and he said
yes. He said--" Polly came to a sudden pause.
"Said what, Poll? Out with it."
"I wasn't going to tell, for fear 'twould make you conceited,"
returned Polly; "but if I thought it would make any difference
with your plans, I'd run the risk, only you must be really in
earnest about it, Alan, and think it all over. He said you had
just the character that goes to make a good doctor, brave and true
and unselfish, and always gentle and calm and jolly. Now doesn't
that make you want to be something grand?" And Polly turned to
look at the boy, with all her earnestness, all her love for him
lighting her face and beautifying it, in spite of the brown
freckles on her cheeks.
Alan's face flushed and his eyes were shining, as he asked
eagerly,--
"Did Dr. Adams really say all that about me?"
"Yes, he said so only the other day, and I suppose I oughtn't to
have told you; but, ever since our talk one day last winter when
you'd been to the hospital, I've been hoping and hoping that some
day you'd be just the right kind of a doctor, one that cures his
patients, whether they can pay or not, and makes them love him, in
spite of the horrid things he has to do to them. If you'd only do
that, Alan, I should be so proud of you."
"Should you, Poll? Well, I'll think about it, but it's too soon to
make up my mind yet. Mother wants me to be a minister."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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