"I wish I had," said Rose, the note of envy in her voice being outweighed by the childlike sincerity which her words carried. "What does she do?"
"Do? Why, I don't know, exactly—what all society girls, with plenty of money at their disposal, do, I suppose. Of course she has clubs which she belongs to, and she goes to dances and theatres and ... I think she is interested in some sort of charity, too." He had an uncomfortable feeling that he was failing to make out a very strong case for the woman to whom he was engaged, and at the same time wondering why any vindication of her should seem necessary, since he had always regarded her as a bit too perfect, if anything.
"Oh, that is lovely, for the Bible says that the greatest of all is charity," cried Rose, her eyes sparkling. "And does she go about helping poor, lonesome city people, and the dear little poor children? It must be wonderful to have lots of money, so that you can do all sorts of things to make them happier and better."
"Confound the child," thought Donald, although his exasperation was directed rather at himself, than at her. "It's positively indecent the way she gets inside one. Judged by the standards of her class, Marion is a splendid girl—head and shoulders above the average—yet these unconsciously searching questions of Smiles' are ... Hang it all, I wish I had had sense enough not to open the subject."
Aloud he said non-committally, "Yes, of course it is wonderful and I know that you would do it if you were able."
"I shall do it," was the confident answer. "I can't give money but I can give myself." There was a moment of silence; then Rose added softly, "I guess she loves you a lot, too, you are so good to ... to people, and do such wonderful things. When do you calculate to get married to her, Doctor Mac?"
"Married?" he repeated in a startled voice, "Oh, some day, of course; but you know how terribly busy I am, and ..." He stopped, visualizing himself at that moment as he lolled indolently in the doorway of that mountain cabin, and wondering if the same thought were in her mind as was in his. At the same time came a welcome interruption in the appearance of a small child, brown as the proverbial berry, and bearing in her arms a large and rather dilapidated appearing doll. For an instant Donald failed to recognize her, and said, "Hello, here comes one of your little friends to see you, Smiles. Why, I do believe ... yes, it's Lou. Come along. You're not afraid of the doctor man who sent you that doll."
Lou advanced, one finger in her mouth, the corners of which were lifting in a shy smile. Sensing the approach of another old friend, Mike bounded out of the doorway where he had lain panting in the shadow, and so energetic was his greeting that the child was very nearly upset by it, although as soon as she could regain her equilibrium she flung her little arms around the roughly coated neck, without a trace of fear.
"Mike's got er broken leg," she announced. The words gave Donald a start until he saw that she was holding out to him her doll, one of whose limbs flapped about in piteous substantiation. "Kin yo' make hit well ergin?"
Examining the injured member, whence the sawdust blood had issued through a deep incision in the cloth, Donald replied seriously, "It will require a rather serious operation, but I guess that I can mend it with the assistance of Nurse Smiles. We will have to sew up the wound and put the leg in splints."