Confiding my hopes to a few intimates, from them I got the sympathy I craved. Gradually my ambition became known in the school. It was perhaps two years later before a word was said to me on the subject by my father. I thought it strange that he who showed such an interest in my studies should be so indifferent in this which meant so much to me. But I learned in time that it was not indifference. It seems he told Mother not to be anxious over it and not attempt to dissuade me.
“If it is a mere whim,” he had said, “it will soon pass, and no harm will be done; but if she is in earnest, she will do it, and opposition will only make her more intent on it.”
When he saw it was not a whim, he acted promptly enough; and when the time came for me to go to college, he smoothed the way as only the most unselfish of fathers could. And so did Mother and Sister; their ready help was given, their own economies and self-sacrifices were cheerfully contributed that I might accomplish my purpose.
A certain noon as I started for school as usual Father said:
“Eugenia, hurry up to the office when school is out; I want to take you to see Dr. Barnard.”
To my questioning look he explained:
“If you are bound to be a doctor, you may as well begin to find out something about it. I have talked with the Doctor; he says he will take you as a student; you can read in his office Saturdays and get a start in that way.”
I wonder if my father knew how happy he made me that day. As I went back to school I trod on air. A radiance suffused my whole being. There was very little studying that afternoon—whispered explanations to a favoured few, wonderful tolerance on the principal’s part at my inattention to studies and open disregard of rules. We whispered and wrote notes and were in a delicious flutter of excitement. As Father, the Doctor, and the Professor were great cronies, I presume my teacher knew of the plan long before I did.
Dr. Barnard was a man of perhaps thirty-five, though to me he then seemed much older. He was comparatively a newcomer in the town but, being a Mason, found favour in Father’s sight. A good man with whom to be associated, a student of human nature, kind, easy-going, with a keen sense of humour, he was wide-awake as a physician and, what is especially to the point, he did not take me too seriously, but wisely concealed from me that he did not. I think he cured me of some whims and susceptibilities; and I can see that he helped to develop my sense of humour and to counteract some of my strenuous, sentimental views of life. But it was done tactfully. He never shocked, though often surprised me.
That memorable first day he talked to me about the study of medicine, about college life, its requirements, the difficulties to be encountered, and the courage necessary. All that I could hope to do while in school, he said, was to occupy the time I might otherwise spend in desultory reading, in studying advanced physiology and anatomy, thus making my first year in college easier. I could prepare my lessons and he would quiz me on Saturdays.