Dr. Leslie laughed a little and shook his head gently.  “It’s very well for you to talk, Ferris,” he said, “since you have done more work than any man I know.  And I find this neighborhood entirely placid; one bit of news will last us a fortnight.  I dare say Marilla will let everybody know that you have come to town, and have explained why she was ten minutes late, even to the minister.”

“How about the little girl herself?” asked the guest presently; “she seems well combined, and likely, as they used to say when I was a boy.”

Dr. Leslie resumed the subject willingly:  “So far as I can see, she has the good qualities of all her ancestors without the bad ones.  Her mother’s mother was an old fashioned country woman of the best stock.  Of course she resented what she believed to be her daughter’s wrongs, and refused to have anything to do with her son-in-law’s family, and kept the child as carefully as possible from any knowledge of them.  Little Nan was not strong at first, but I insisted that she should be allowed to run free out of doors.  It seems to me that up to seven or eight years of age children are simply bundles of inheritances, and I can see the traits of one ancestor after another; but a little later than the usual time she began to assert her own individuality, and has grown capitally well in mind and body ever since.  There is an amusing trace of the provincial self-reliance and self-respect and farmer-like dignity, added to a quick instinct, and tact and ready courtesy, which must have come from the other side of her ancestry.  She is more a child of the soil than any country child I know, and yet she would not put a city household to shame.  She has seen nothing of the world of course, but you can see she isn’t like the usual village school-girl.  There is one thing quite remarkable.  I believe she has grown up as naturally as a plant grows, not having been clipped back or forced in any unnatural direction.  If ever a human being were untrammeled and left alone to see what will come of it, it is this child.  And I will own I am very much interested to see what will appear later.”

The navy surgeon’s eyes twinkled at this enthusiasm, but he asked soberly what seemed to be our heroine’s bent, so far as could be discovered, and laughed outright when he was gravely told that it was a medical bent; a surprising understanding of things pertaining to that most delightful profession.

“But you surely don’t mean to let her risk her happiness in following that career?” Dr. Ferris inquired with feigned anxiety for his answer.  “You surely aren’t going to sacrifice that innocent creature to a theory!  I know it’s a theory; last time I was here, you could think of nothing but hypnotism or else the action of belladonna in congestion and inflammation of the brain;” and he left his very comfortable chair suddenly, with a burst of laughter, and began to walk up and down the room.  “She has no relatives to protect her, and I consider it a shocking case of a guardian’s inhumanity.  Grown up naturally indeed!  I don’t doubt that you supplied her with Bell’s ‘Anatomy’ for a picture-book and made her say over the names of the eight little bones of her wrist, instead of ‘This little pig went to market.’”