"Though I am afraid I don't want to be a minister," said Charles, drawing a long breath as if he had given utterance to a very wicked thought.
"You shall have your own choice about it," replied his father firmly. "And there's no hurry."
It had been such a pleasure to walk down-town every morning with his father. Broadway was fresh and clean, and the breeze came up from the river at every corner. There were not so many people nor factories, and there were still some lots given over to grassy spaces and shrubs. Walking to business was considered quite the thing then.
He had a great deal to tell Hanny about "our" store, and what "we" were doing. The new beautiful stock that was coming in, for then it took from twelve to sixteen days to cross the ocean, and you had to order quite in advance. He had learned to play several tunes on the accordeon, and he hoped his father would let him take his four weeks' wages and buy one. And Mr. Gerard had said he should be very happy to have all the girls and their mothers come down some afternoon.
"And if Daisy only could go!"
"Isn't she beautiful?" said Charles. "She looks like an angel. Her short golden hair is like the glory they put around the saints and the Saviour, an aureole they call it."
"What a beautiful word."
"I thought at first she would die. But your brother is sure she will live now. Only it's such a pity——" the boy's voice faltered a little from intense sympathy.
Hanny sighed too. She knew what he meant to say. But the children refrained from giving it a name. "Hanny, I think it's just splendid to be a doctor. To help people and encourage them when you can't cure them. He said one night when he stopped at the Deans that she might have been dreadfully deformed, and now it will not be very bad, that when her lovely hair gets grown out again it will not show much. I'm so glad."
They had cut the golden ringlets close to her head, for she could not be disturbed during those critical weeks in the hospital.