It was a strange thing
that, just afterward, Dr. Leslie had, with much dismay, caught sight
of the true aunt; for Miss Anna Prince of Dunport had also seen fit to
make one of her rare visits to Boston. She looked dignified and
stately, but a little severe, as she went down the side street away
from them. Nan's quick eyes had noticed already the difference between
the city people and the country folks, and would have even recognized
a certain provincialism in her father's sister. The doctor had only
seen Miss Prince once many years before, but he had known her again
with instinctive certainty, and Nan did not guess, though she was most
grateful for it, why he reached for her hand, and held it fast as they
walked together, just as he always used to do when she was a little
girl. She was not yet fully grown, and she never suspected the sudden
thrill of dread, and consciousness of the great battle of life which
she must soon begin to fight, which all at once chilled the doctor's
heart. "It's a cold world, a cold world," he had said to himself.
"Only one thing will help her through safely, and that is her
usefulness. She shall never be either a thief or a beggar of the
world's favor if I can have my wish." And Nan, holding his hand with
her warm, soft, childish one, looked up in his face, all unconscious
that he thought with pity how unaware she was of the years to come,
and of their difference to this sunshine holiday. "And yet I never was
so happy at her age as I am this summer," the doctor told himself by
way of cheer.
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