"And who is the little girl?" asked Dr. Ferris, who had refused his
entertainer's cigars and produced a pipe from one pocket, after having
drawn a handful of curious small jade figures from another and pushed
them along the edge of the study table, without comment, for his
friend to look at. Some of them were so finely carved that they looked
like a heap of grotesque insects struggling together as they lay
there, but though Dr. Leslie's eyes brightened as he glanced at them,
he gave no other sign of interest at that time, and answered his
guest's question instead.
"She is a ward of mine," he said; "she was left quite alone by the
death of her grandmother some months ago, and so I brought her here."
"It isn't often that I forget a face," said Dr. Ferris, "but I have
been trying to think what association I can possibly have with that
child. I remember at last; she looks like a young assistant surgeon
who was on the old frigate Fortune with me just before I left the
service. I don't think he was from this part of the country though; I
never heard what became of him."
"I dare say it was her father; I believe he made a voyage or two,"
said Dr. Leslie, much interested. "Do you know anything more about
him? you always remember everything, Ferris."
"Yes," answered the guest, slowly puffing away at his pipe. "Yes, he
was a very bright fellow, with a great gift at doctoring, but he was
willful, full of queer twists and fancies, the marry in haste and
repent at his leisure sort of young man.
Pages:
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96