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."
"You a minister! Why, Alan, you'd laugh, even in the middle of a
sermon; and I know you'd never go to a funeral without thinking
how Job went, the other day. And anyway, I'd a great deal rather
be a doctor, for they do more good. Ministers _talk;_ doctors
_do_."
"Some ministers _do_," said Jessie.
"Yes, some of them; but it's their business to preach, and that's
all most of them try to do. You won't hear of many ministers that
get up, cold winter nights, every night for a week, to go to see
one poor little croupy baby, just for love of it, and not
expecting to get a cent. I don't believe that, taken year in and
year out, there are many missionaries that work harder or do more
good than papa does."
"Not many doctors, either," suggested Alan.
"That may be; but just his doing it proves that it can be done, if
anybody is willing to try. Don't shirk that way, Alan; it isn't
like you. You can do it just as well as he can, and I mean you
shall, some day, if teasing can do any good."
"Do you know, Polly," said Jessie; "you've talked about it till
you make me want to be a doctor, myself.
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