Dr. Leslie and his ward suffered much reproach and questioning, as the
comments ranged from indignation to amusement. But it was as true of
Nan's calling, as of all others, that it would be her own failure to
make it respected from which any just contempt might come, and she had
thrown herself into her chosen career with such zeal, and pride, and
affectionate desire to please her teacher, that the small public who
had at first jeered or condemned her came at last to accepting the
thing as inevitable and a matter of course, even if they did not
actually approve. There was such a vigorous determination in the minds
of the doctor and his pupil that Nan should not only be a doctor but a
good one, that anything less than a decided fitness for the profession
would have doomed them both to disappointment, even with such
unwearied effort and painstaking. In the earlier years of his practice
Dr. Leslie had been much sought as an instructor, but he had long
since begun to deny the young men who had wished to be his students,
though hardly one had ever gone from the neighborhood of Oldfields who
did not owe much to him for his wise suggestions and practical help.

He patiently taught this eager young scholar day by day, and gave her,
as fast as he could, the benefit of the wisdom which he had gained
through faithful devotion to his business and the persistent study of
many years. Nan followed step by step, and, while becoming more
conscious of her own ignorance and of the uncertainties and the laws
of the practice of medicine with every week's study, knew better and
better that it is resource, and bravery, and being able to think for
one's self, that make a physician worth anything. There must be an
instinct that recognizes a disease and suggests its remedy, as much as
an instinct that finds the right notes and harmonies for a composer of
music, or the colors for a true artist's picture, or the results of
figures for a mathematician. Men and women may learn these callings