Willie got on the wall from the top of his stair, dropped into the stable-yard, which served for the parson's pony as well as the Doctor's two horses, and thence passed into Mr Shepherd's garden, where the two began to walk up and down together.
The year was like a child waking up from a sleep into which he had fallen crying. Its life was returning to it, fresh and new. It was as if God were again drawing nigh to His world. All the winter through He had never left it, only had, as it were, been rolling it along the path before Him; but now had taken it up in His hand, and was carrying it for a while; and that was how its birds were singing so sweetly, and its buds were coming so blithely out of doors, and the wind blew so soft, and the rain fell so repentantly, and the earth sent up such a gracious odour.
"The year is coming to itself again, Willie—growing busy once more," Mr
Shepherd said.
"Yes," answered Willie. "It's been all but dead, and has come to life again. It must have had the doctor to it."
"Eh? What doctor, Willie?"
"Well, you know, there is but One that could be doctor to this big world."
"Yes, surely," returned Mr Shepherd. "And that brings me to what I wanted to talk to you about. I hear your father means to make a doctor of you."
"Yes. Isn't it good of him?" said Willie.
"Then you would like it?"
"Yes; that I should!"