“Hardly at an age to be reasonably called old, Walter,” remonstrated their mother gently, and with a smile.
“It seems quite well, from a business point of view, for a doctor to be considered old—or at least not very young, mother,” said Harold pleasantly, and with a smile.
“Most people are more ready to trust themselves and dear ones to the treatment of a physician who has had some experience in the practice of his profession, than to one whose youth proves him to be but a beginner.”
“Quite true, Harold, and very sensible in those who act upon that principle,” remarked his grandfather.
CHAPTER XVIII
“It is a lovely morning, one of October’s fairest days!” exclaimed Lucilla, glancing from the window of her dressing-room on the day after their home-coming from their recent sojourn upon the banks of the Hudson. “Oh, Chester, my dear, I wish you could just stay at home and spend the day with me!”
“It would be very pleasant to do so, my love,” he returned, “but business forbids; and besides,” he added laughingly, “I feel very sure you would not be content to really stay at home all day.”
“No,” she returned in mirthful tone, “but Woodburn seems to me only a part of my home—holding my dear father and the other loved ones—and I cannot be content to refrain from spending a part of every day with them, or from having them spend a part here with me.”