“You see,” she said, a little later, when they were in the library,
“Noel and I were left orphans when we were very young, and Aunt
Katherine Carew took care of us. I couldn’t begin to tell you all she
did, all the sacrifices she made. Naturally, it was Noel, the boy, that
she hoped and expected most from. I wanted to study medicine, and poor
Noel couldn’t make up his mind exactly what he wanted to do; so he chose
that, too, and we studied together. It was a terrible strain for Aunt
Katherine. It took almost all she had, and after we’d both left the
hospital, she couldn’t possibly set up two young doctors. We talked it
over, and it was my idea to give him his chance first. He’s two years
older, and--well, I thought I could wait. Poor Aunt Katherine couldn’t
manage everything herself, and we couldn’t afford a servant, and yet she
felt that it was very important to keep up appearances; so I decided
that I would be the servant. I intended to be invisible until I was
ready to appear as a full-fledged M.D. myself.” She paused, and smiled a
little. “We both worked very hard to make a doctor of Noel,” she went
on. “I think now that we tried a little too hard. If he hadn’t felt that
so much was expected of him, he might have gone through with it.”
“He may do better where he is,” said Alan.
“I can’t think that,” said she, “even if he makes a great deal of money;
because, for me, our profession is by far the noblest one in the world.
There’s nothing else so fine and so--”
“Absolutely nothing else?” asked Alan. “Nothing to compare with it?”
He thought that the slight confusion she betrayed was infinitely more
becoming to her than her usual composure.
“Well, of course,” said she, “there’s--there’s _you_!”
MUNSEY’S
MAGAZINE
OCTOBER, 1923
Vol. LXXX NUMBER 1