"What do you think are the greatest professions, Miss Ruth?" asked the boy
suddenly.
"Well, law is one--" she began.
"That's the way Papa begins," he interrupted impatiently; "but I'll tell
you what I think is the greatest. Guess, now."
"The ministry?" she ventured.
"Oh, of course; but I'm not good enough for that, --that takes exceptions.
Guess again."
"Well, there are the fine arts, or soldiery, --that is it. You would be a
brave soldier, Willikins, my man."
"No, sir," he replied, flinging back his head; "I don't want to take lives;
I want to save them."
"You mean a physician, Will?"
"That's it--but not exactly--I mean a surgeon. Don't you think that takes
bravery? And it's a long sight better than being a solider; he draws blood
to kill, we do it to save. What do you think, Miss Ruth?"
"Indeed, you are right," she answered dreamily, her thoughts wandering
beyond the river. So they walked along; and as they were about to descent
the slope, a man in overalls and carrying a leather bag came suddenly upon
them in the gloaming. He stood stock-still, his mouth gaping wide.
When Ruth saw it was Ben, the steward, she laughed.
"Why, Ben!" she exclaimed.
The man's mouth slowly closed, and his hand went up to his cap.
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