ded."

"Have you succeeded in reconciling Mrs. DonNELL's hopeful son to his
saintly name?"

"Yes," laughed Anne, "but it was really a difficult task. At first, when
I called him 'St. Clair' he would not take the least notice until I'd
spoken two or three times; and then, when the other boys nudged him, he
would look up with such an aggrieved air, as if I'd called him John or
Charlie and he couldn't be expected to know I meant him. So I kept
him in after school one night and talked kindly to him. I told him his
mother wished me to call him St. Clair and I couldn't go against her
wishes. He saw it when it was all explained out . . . he's really a very
reasonable little fellow . . . and he said _I_ could call him St. Clair
but that he'd 'lick the stuffing' out of any of the boys that tried it.
Of course, I had to rebuke him again for using such shocking language.
Since then _I_ call him St. Clair and the boys call him Jake and all
goes smoothly. He informs me that he means to be a carpenter, but Mrs.
DonNELL says I am to make a college professor out of him."

The mention of college gave a new direction to Gilbert's thoughts, and
they talked for a time of their plans and wishes . . . gravely, earnestly,
hopefully, as youth loves to talk, while the future is yet an untrodden
path full of wonderful possibilities.

Gilbert had finally made up his mind that he was going to be a doctor.

"It's a splendid profession," he said enthusiastically. "A fellow has to
fight something all through life . . . didn't somebody once define man
as a fighting animal? . . . and I want to fight disease and pain and
ignorance . . . which are all members one of another. I want to do my
share of honest, real work in the world, Anne . . . add a little to the
sum of human knowledge that all the good men have been accumulating
since it began. The folks who lived before me have done so much for me
that I want to show my gratitude by doing something for the folks who
will live after me. It seems to me that is the only way a fellow can get
square with his obligations to the race."

"I'd like to add some beauty to life," said Anne dreamily. "I don't
exactly want to make people KNOW more . . . though I know that IS the
noblest ambition . . . but I'd love to make them have a pleasanter time
because of me . . . to have some little joy or happy thought that would
never have existed if I hadn't been born."

"I think you're fulfilling that ambition every