Of course I don't like
the other things very well--sewing, and reading out loud, and all
that. But THEY aren't LIVING."
"No? What are they, then?"
"Aunt Polly says they're 'learning to live,' sighed Pollyanna,
with a rueful smile.
The doctor smiled now--a little queerly.
"Does she? Well, I should think she might say--just that."
"Yes," responded Pollyanna. "But I don't see it that way at all.
I don't think you have to LEARN how to live. I didn't, anyhow."
The doctor drew a long sigh.
"After all, I'm afraid some of us--do have to, little girl," he
said. Then, for a time he was silent. Pollyanna, stealing a
glance at his face, felt vaguely sorry for him. He looked so sad.
She wished, uneasily, that she could "do something." It was this,
perhaps, that caused her to say in a timid voice:
"Dr. Chilton, I should think being a doctor would, be the very
gladdest kind of a business there was."
The doctor turned in surprise.
" 'Gladdest'!--when I see so much suffering always, everywhere I
go?" he cried.
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