I can't see the value of that idiotic old battered-up copper pail
you cherish so tenderly, but that's because I lack the true, heaven-born
artist's soul. Where are you going to put this, Fiddle?"
Charlotte's eyes grew absent. She was sending them in imagination across
the lawn to the little old brick house next door, which was soon to be
her home, as she had done every time a new gift arrived. There were a
good many puzzles of this sort in connection with her wedding gifts.
Where to put some of them she knew, with a thrill of pleasure, the
instant she set eyes on them; where in the world others could possibly
go was undoubtedly a serious question.
"Hello, here comes Andy!" called Just, from the window. "Give him a
chance at it. Perhaps he can use it somewhere in the surgery--as a
delicate way of cheering the patients when they feel as if perhaps
they'd better not have come."
Charlotte turned as the hall door swung open, admitting Dr. Andrew
Churchill and a fresh breath of October air.
Everybody turned about also. Into everybody's face came a look of
affectionate greeting.
Pages:
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167