"What do you think of that?"
The doctor took the rosebud and looked at it.
"If I were to tell you what I think of it," he said with a sort of grave candour, "you would dismiss me, and I should come here no more!"
"Reuben brought me that, Dr. Harrison, from the little lame girl you sent the rosebush to, in the winter. I wish you knew how much good that rosebush has done!"
"I sometimes wish," said the doctor, "that I had been born in a cottage!"
"Why, in the world?"
"It would be so pleasant to have people come and bring me rosebushes!"
"Or cowslips?" said Faith. "Then you would have a taste for cowslips."
"But then the people might get sick," said the doctor, waiving the "bits of spring;"—"so I am content. How are you to-day?" He took Faith's hand and felt it, and looked at her. The result did not seem to be unsatisfactory on the whole.
"You mustn't read too much in that book," said he, glancing over at it.