"
"Well, you must be in want of something to do," said Molly, "if
you have any idea of patching up broken bones and getting yourself
exposed to small-pox and all sorts of fevers. But go on, Alan;
it's your turn."
"Let's see," said Alan reflectively; "first of all, I'd get over
my rheumatism, and then, for a few years, I'd be the very best
base-ball player in the world. Then, after I was too old for that,
I'd travel round a little while, and then I'd settle down and be--
"
Polly listened breathlessly for the decision.
"Be what?" she asked eagerly.
"An undertaker."
"Oh, Alan, how mean of you!" protested Jessie. "Here we've all
been and told our wishes as truly as we could, and now you are
just making fun of us. That isn't fair."
"Isn't it?" And Alan laughed teasingly. "How do you know I haven't
told truly? But, to be honest, I think I'd go into partnership
with either Polly or you. I'd like to be a first-class doctor, or
else a great author."
"Poems?" inquired Polly sympathetically.
"Poems! No; nor novels either, nor any such trash as that,"
returned the boy scornfully. "I'd write great, long books with
real solid work in them, history, or else some kind of science,
books that wouldn't be forgotten just as soon as they were read,
but ones that would help the world along by making people know
more and more, the more they studied them.
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