Through the cloudless days of a beautiful May the Doctor’s son struggled back to life, and learned afresh how sweet a thing it was. He never was lonely, for some boy or girl was always at hand to look after food and medicines, tell stories, and invite orders. On his own behalf Max was not exigent; but his comrades found out, during those days of vicarious work among the sick and sorry of Woodend, how busy a person “the young Doc” had become, and how many of his glad boyish hours must have been given freely to the helping of others.
“Max was an Altruist long before we started our Society,” remarked Frances meditatively. “I don’t know how he managed to do all he did.”
“‘Busy people always have most time,’” said Betty sententiously.
“Will Max ever be busy again, I wonder?” questioned Florry. “Oh, poor Max!—if he doesn’t get well! I heard Dr. Brenton tell Papa that Max didn’t get on a bit, and that he had been so badly hurt.—Oh, Frances! wasn’t it cruel?”
“Yes; but Max is a hero, and we’re proud of him. And he’s quite brave about it. If he fretted, he wouldn’t have half so good a chance; but since he’s plucky and quiet he will surely get well some day. Meanwhile, we can take care of all his ‘cases’.—I dressed a burn to-day,” finished Frances triumphantly. “The child had come to see Max—just fancy—and I took him in, and Max showed me how to do it.”
“We’ll start an ambulance class, and beg Dr. Brenton to teach us,” said Betty. “I should like it. I’m going to be a doctor some day, and live in Harley Street, and be rich and famous, and cure all the people nobody else can cure;—I’ll be just like Uncle Gerald.”
“And Florry will be rich and famous too,” sighed Frances; “she’ll write hooks and plays and be as great an author as you will be a doctor. Oh, dear! I sha’n’t be anybody particular. I’ll just have to stay at home and help Max with his easy cases.”
“I can tell you something more about Max,” said Betty. “Uncle Gerald says Dr. Brenton ought to send him away yachting with somebody who would take great care of him, and then he would get well a great deal sooner. I’m on the look-out for a nice Somebody to do it. I’ve a cousin who has a yacht, and I wrote to him, and what do you think the wretch replied? ‘Catch me plaguing myself with an invalid boy!’ I sha’n’t speak to him when he comes here again.”
“I wouldn’t,” said Florry, with equal determination.
“He doesn’t know Max,” said Frances.