“How are the sick ones to-day?”
“What did she mean?” demanded Mercy.
“Oh, that house on the edge of the village is a sort of hospital and school combined. I am there most of the time, though my real home is with the Littlejohns, just as it has always been; though the Doctor is not rich, as you fancied, in anything save wisdom and goodness.”
“You’re a great scholar now, Kitty, I s’pose—could even do figurin’ an’ writin’ letters.”
“I can do that much without being a ‘scholar.’ I’ve learned all sorts of things that came my way, from civil engineering—enough to survey lots for people—to a little Greek. The surveying was taught me by a man who was in our sick-room, and in gratitude for the care we gave him. It’s very useful here.”
“Can you sing, or play music?”
“I always sang, you know; and I can play the violin to guide the hymns ‘in meeting.’”
“What’s that? A fiddle—to hymns!”
“Yes. Why not, since it’s the only instrument we have?”
“My land! You’ll be dancin’ at worship next!”