“Yes, she did,” answered Frankie.
“Well, you can’t stay here,” the doctor told him.
Without a word Frankie rose, took up his cap, and walked off down the passage.
“Here, wait a minute!” called Dr. Joe. “You can’t go off like that!”
Frankie stopped and turned.
“You told me I couldn’t stay,” he said.
The child’s manner was not in any way defiant or impertinent, but he certainly was not abashed. He stood, cap in hand, looking straight into the doctor’s face; and though he was by no means a handsome child, being slight, pale, and undersized for his years, there was something in that straightforward glance which Dr. Joe found very attractive.
“See here, my boy!” he said. “What[Pg 262] put the idea of being a doctor into your head, anyhow?”
“It just came,” said Frankie. “When I was in the hospital. When I had pneumonia last winter. In New York. The internes used to talk to me. And I liked it.”
“Didn’t like the pneumonia, did you?” asked Dr. Joe.