After a while we began to talk, and then, thinking my time had come, I
tried to approach my subject. Being such a clever little woman I went
artfully to work, speaking first about my father, my mother, my cousin,
Nessy MacLeod, and even Aunt Bridget, with the intention of showing how
rich I was in relations, so that he might see how poor he was himself.

I felt myself a bit of a hypocrite in all this, but the doctor's boy did
not know that, and I noticed that as I passed my people in review he
only said "Is she any good?" or "Is he a stunner?"

At length my great moment came and with a fluttering heart I took it.

"Haven't you got a sister?" I said.

"Not _me_!" said the doctor's boy, with a dig of emphasis on the last
word which cut me to the quick.

"Wouldn't you like to have one?"

"Sisters isn't no good," said the doctor's boy, and he instanced "chaps"
at school--Jimmy Christopher and others--whose sisters were afraid of
everything--lobsters and crabs and even the sea.

I knew I was as timid as a hare myself, but my lonely little heart was
beginning to bleed, and as well as I could for my throat which was
choking me, I said:

"I'm not afraid of the sea--not crabs neither."