Europe was lovely, and Mrs. Farrington; but--I'm
queer, Ted. There is no getting around the fact." Phebe brushed away a
tear that hung heavy on her brown lashes.
Theodora held out her hand to her invitingly; but Phebe shook her head.
"No; I don't want to be cuddled, Ted; I'm not a baby. I want to be
understood; that is all. You never can understand, though. You have Billy
and your writing, more than your fair share, and you grew up into them
both. You were foreordained. Other people are. I wish I were; but I'm
not, and yet I want to work, to do something definite." She paused with a
little laugh. "I said something about it once to some nice English girls
I met at Lucerne. They seemed very all-round and energetic, and I thought
they would understand. They just put their dear, rosy heads on one side
and said, 'Oh, dear me, how very unusual!' Then I gave it up and kept
still till I told Mrs. Farrington. She understood."
"Did she?"
"She always understands things. We talked it all over, and she agreed
that it was best for me to come home."
"But how did you happen to choose medicine?"
"What else was there? Besides, I ought to inherit it, and papa ought to
have some child follow him. Hubert didn't, and I must."
"What about Allyn?"
"He is too young yet to tell whether he will amount to anything or not.
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