“Are you afraid of a little pain?” asked Faith contemptuously.
Walter flushed.
“It would be a big pain. I hate being hurt. Father said he wouldn’t insist on my going—he’d wait until I’d made up my own mind to go.”
“It wouldn’t hurt as long as the toothache,” argued Faith, “You’ve had five spells of toothache. If you’d just go and have it out there’d be no more bad nights. I had a tooth out once. I yelled for a moment, but it was all over then—only the bleeding.”
“The bleeding is worst of all—it’s so ugly,” cried Walter. “It just made me sick when Jem cut his foot last summer. Susan said I looked more like fainting than Jem did. But I couldn’t bear to see Jem hurt, either. Somebody is always getting hurt, Faith—and it’s awful. I just can’t bear to see things hurt. It makes me just want to run—and run—and run—till I can’t hear or see them.”
“There’s no use making a fuss over anyone getting hurt,” said Faith, tossing her curls. “Of course, if you’ve hurt yourself very bad, you have to yell—and blood is messy—and I don’t like seeing other people hurt, either. But I don’t want to run—I want to go to work and help them. Your father has to hurt people lots of times to cure them. What would they do if he ran away?”
“I didn’t say I would run. I said I wanted to run. That’s a different thing. I want to help people, too. But oh, I wish there weren’t any ugly, dreadful things in the world. I wish everything was glad and beautiful.”
“Well, don’t let’s think of what isn’t,” said Faith. “After all, there’s lots of fun in being alive. You wouldn’t have toothache if you were dead, but still, wouldn’t you lots rather be alive than dead? I would, a hundred times. Oh, here’s Dan Reese. He’s been down to the harbour for fish.”
“I hate Dan Reese,” said Walter.
“So do I. All us girls do. I’m just going to walk past and never take the least notice of him. You watch me!”