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.
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