"Yes, I make her over to you, and you can date your first case from this afternoon," he answered.
"No; I'd rather have something a little younger and more interesting. I will be ready to start, right after lunch."
The office door closed behind her father, and Phebe let her book slide from her knee, as she rested her tired eyes on the fresh green lawn before her. For the past three months, she had worked hard, eager to prove that her home-coming had been inspired by no sudden whim, still more eager to win her father's professional approval. Her work was interesting; and yet at times bones and arteries and nerves had a tendency to pall upon her. She had never dreamed that so much drudgery would attend the early stages of her professional studies. She was heartily sick of the theoretical, and she longed for the practical. She had even teased her father to let her go with him on his rounds. Instead, he had laughed at her and prescribed a further course of drudgery.
"Never mind." she said to herself sturdily. "I'll get there, some day. I won't always carry pills to old women; and when I do get a real case of my own won't I astonish them all!" And events justified her assertion.
She was still sitting there, dreaming of future deeds, when Allyn came out to the veranda.
"Oh, Allyn?"
"Hullo, sawbones!"
"What are you going to do this afternoon?"
"Nothing."
"Don't you want to ride with me?"