"No; I don't want to be cuddled, Ted; I'm not a baby. I want to be understood; that is all. You never can understand, though. You have Billy and your writing, more than your fair share, and you grew up into them both. You were foreordained. Other people are. I wish I were; but I'm not, and yet I want to work, to do something definite." She paused with a little laugh. "I said something about it once to some nice English girls I met at Lucerne. They seemed very all-round and energetic, and I thought they would understand. They just put their dear, rosy heads on one side and said, 'Oh, dear me, how very unusual!' Then I gave it up and kept still till I told Mrs. Farrington. She understood."
"Did she?"
"She always understands things. We talked it all over, and she agreed that it was best for me to come home."
"But how did you happen to choose medicine?"
"What else was there? Besides, I ought to inherit it, and papa ought to have some child follow him. Hubert didn't, and I must."
"What about Allyn?"
"He is too young yet to tell whether he will amount to anything or not. I don't believe he is the right kind, either. I am."
"How do you mean?" In spite of herself, Theodora laughed at the assurance in Phebe's tone.
"Oh, I have studied myself a good deal," she said with calm complacency. "I am not nervous, nor very sympathetic, and I think I could operate on people very nicely."
"Phebe!" This time, there was no concealment in Theodora's laugh.