down her very life for her patient?

I seized the doctor's hand. I had never been so glad in all my life to
see any one. He looked just like a big boy, but he represented renewed
hope, the possibility of the achievement of a longing so shrewd that it
was a bitter pain to endure it.

"You are going to help us save him!" I cried.

"I will most gladly do all I possibly can," he answered, very simply and
quietly.

These doctors are really very nice people, Aunt Jennie dear. They speak
to you so hopefully, and there seems to be something in them that makes
you feel that you want to lean upon them and trust them.

When I had a better look at this one he appeared to be really very
young, and perhaps just a little gawky, and he wore the most appreciably
store-clothes, and the funniest little black string of a neck-tie. Isn't
it queer that silly things should enter one's head at such times? But he
looked like a fine, strong, honest boy, and I liked him for coming, and
when he smiled at me I really thought he had a very nice face, and one
that gave one the impression that he knew things, too.

"Please hurry," I said. "Come with me quick. Dr. Grant is dying, you
know. I am sure he is dying, but perhaps those things you have brought
will make him well again."

"I hope so," answered that doctor boy, and together we ran up the path to
that poor little hut that holds all the world for me, perhaps a dying