"It is not for me. That little lame child to whom you sent the rose-tree, Dr. Harrison,—she is very sick. Would you go and see her?"
"Did you think I would not?" he said rather gravely.
"I want to see her very much myself," Faith went on;—"but I suppose I could not take so long a ride yet. Could I?"
The doctor looked at her.
"I think the mother of the Gracchi must have been something such a woman!" he said with an indescribable grave comic mien;—"and the other Roman mother that saved Rome and lost her son! Or that lady of Sparta who made the affectionate request to her son about coming home from the battle on his shield! I thought the race had died out."
Faith could not help laughing. He had not been sure that she would understand his allusions, but his watchful eye saw that she did.
"Were you educated in Pattaquasset?" he said. "Pardon me!"—
All Faith's gravity returned, and all her colour too. "No, sir," she said, "I have never been educated. I am studying now."
"Studying!" said he gently. "You have little need to study."
"Why, sir?"