though the other girls had grumbled angrily at the task. Long ago,
when Nan had confided to her dearest cronies that she meant to be a
doctor, they were hardly surprised that she should determine upon a
career which they would have rejected for themselves. She was not of
their mind, and they believed her capable of doing anything she
undertook. Yet to most of them the possible and even probable marriage
which was waiting somewhere in the future seemed to hover like a
cloudy barrier over the realization of any such unnatural plans.

They assured themselves that their school-mate showed no sign of being
the sort of girl who tried to be mannish and to forsake her natural
vocation for a profession. She did not look strong-minded; besides she
had no need to work for her living, this ward of a rich man, who was
altogether the most brilliant and beautiful girl in school. Yet
everybody knew that she had a strange tenacity of purpose, and there
was a lack of pretension, and a simplicity that scorned the deceits of
school-girl existence. Everybody knew too that she was not a
commonplace girl, and her younger friends made her the heroine of
their fondest anticipations and dreams. But after all, it seemed as if
everybody, even the girl herself, had lost sight of the once familiar
idea. It was a natural thing enough that she should have become expert
in rendering various minor services to the patients in Dr. Leslie's
absence, and sometimes assist him when no other person was at hand.
Marilla became insensible at the sight of the least dangerous of
wounds, and could not be trusted to suggest the most familiar
household remedy, after all her years of association with the
practice of medicine, and it was considered lucky that Nan had some
aptness for such services. In her childhood she had been nicknamed
"the little doctor," by the household and even a few familiar friends,
but this was apparently outgrown, though her guardian had more than