say so to Art, he always says he has never regretted having chosen the
medical profession, because it affords so many opportunities for doing
good. It's plain he makes that the business of his life. I'm proud of
Art. I don't believe there's a better man anywhere. I was sick last
summer, and you wouldn't believe how kindly he nursed me."

"You can't tell me any thing about him that I should think too good to
believe," said Zoe. "He's our family doctor, you remember; and, of
course, we are all attached to him on that account, as well as because
of the relationship."

"Yes, to be sure. There, Dinah, you may carry away my hat and cloak,"
Ella said, divesting herself of them as she spoke, "but leave the
satchel. I brought my fancy-work, Zoe: one has to be industrious now, as
Christmas is coming. I decided to embroider a pair of slippers for each
of my three brothers. Walter does not expect to get home; so I made his
first, as they had to travel so far. I'm nearly done with Art's, and
then I have Cal's to do."

"Oh, how pretty!" exclaimed Zoe, examining the work: "and that's a new
stitch; won't you teach it to me?"

"Yes, indeed, with pleasure. And I want you to teach me how to crochet
that lace I saw you making the other day. I thought it so pretty."

The two spent a pleasant morning chatting together over their
fancy-work, saying nothing very wise, perhaps, but neither did they say
any thing harmful: an innocent jest now and again, something--usually
laudatory--about some member of the family connection, and remarks and
directions about their work, formed the staple of their talk.