What's the use of it all, any way?"
"I'm sure I don't know," answered Polly, as she tucked her
mittened hand confidingly down into his, as it lay in the side
pocket of his over-coat. "I felt just the same way when I began to
go, last fall; but now I'm used to it, and don't mind so much."
"But what's the use, I'd like to know?" persisted Alan.
"What's the use of your having so much rheumatism in your bones?"
responded Polly, answering question with question.
"How should I know?" returned Alan. "To make me cross as a bear,
and give mother something to worry about, as much as anything, I
suppose."
"I don't believe that's all the reason," said Polly seriously;
"but as long as these things are round, and have to be, just think
how splendid it must be to be a doctor!"
In spite of himself, Alan shivered at the thought. The scenes of
the past hour had made a strong impression on his quick, sensitive
nature.
"No," he said, "I don't want to spend my whole time among such
things. It would be dreadful, Poll."
"I don't think so," said Polly energetically, as she snatched at
the blue cap which a sudden gust of wind was lifting from her
curls. "I don't want to be one myself, but I'm glad papa is a
doctor, and I've always wished I had a brother to be one, too.
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