Conscious as she was of the assumed vanity she affected a seriousness when she said:—
"But I should think you would rather grown-ups gaped at you."
"But what can I do to make 'em?" he asked wonderingly. "Just point the way and I'll take it——"
"Oh, there are lots of ways," she went on. "You're in the medical department, why don't you become a great doctor?"
"I shall," he exclaimed, "but that takes time. Meanwhile I am steeling myself, practicing with the little boys, you know, so I shan't be overwhelmed when big people gape at me in wonder a little later——"
"Oh, you can't be serious!" she cried petulantly.
"What's the use?" he asked and laughed. "What's the use on such a night, with the stars overhead, the tree toads scraping, and—and—you here?"
"But I want you to be," she said; and then ran on: "It has always seemed so silly to me when you great men come out in ridiculous clothes and run around and jump and play ball—just like overgrown babies."
"That's what we are," he replied. "Ann Arbor is only a nursery. It's only different from other nurseries in that the nurses don't wear little caps and aprons." He chuckled.