might be seen every day by the
doctor's side, as if he could not make his morning rounds without her;
and in and out of the farm-houses she went, following him like a
little dog, or, as Marilla scornfully expressed it, a briar at his
heels; sitting soberly by when he dealt his medicines and gave advice,
listening to his wise and merry talk with some, and his helpful advice
and consolation to others of the country people. Many of these
acquaintances treated Nan with great kindness; she half belonged to
them, and was deeply interesting for the sake of her other ties of
blood and bonds of fortune, while she took their courtesy with
thankfulness, and their lack of notice with composure. If there were a
shiny apple offered she was glad, but if not, she did not miss it,
since her chief delight was in being the doctor's assistant and
attendant, and her eyes were always watching for chances when she
might be of use. And one day, coming out from a bedroom, the doctor
discovered, to his amusement, that her quick and careful fingers had
folded the papers of some powders which he had left unfolded on the
table. As they drove home together in the bright noon sunshine, he
said, as if the question were asked for the sake of joking a little,
"What are you going to do when you grow up, Nan?" to which she
answered gravely, as if it were the one great question of her life, "I
should like best to be a doctor." Strangely enough there flitted
through the doctor's mind a remembrance of the day when he had talked
with Mrs. Meeker, and had looked up the lane to see the unlucky turkey
whose leg had been put into splints. He had wished more than once that
he had taken pains to see how the child had managed it; but old Mrs.
Thacher had reported the case to have been at least partially
successful.

Nan had stolen a look at her companion after the answer had been
given, but had been pleased and comforted to find that he was not
laughing at her, and at once began a lively picture of becoming famous
in her chosen profession, and the valued partner of Dr. Leslie, whose
skill everybody praised so heartily. He should not go out at night,
and she would help him so much that he would wonder how he ever had
been able to manage his wide-spread practice alone. It was a matter of
no concern to her that Marilla had laughed when she had been told of
Nan's intentions, and had spoken disrespectfully of women doctors; and
the child's heart was full of pride and h