He's fresh all right."
Birdie did not go into particulars, but she looked important.
"Say, Birdie," Nance asked admiringly, "when you git out of here, what
you goin' to do?"
"I'll tell you what I _ain't_ going to do," said Birdie, impressively, in
a low voice, "I ain't going to stand in a store, and I ain't going out to
work, and I ain't going to work at Clarke's!"
"But what else is left to do?"
"Swear you won't tell?"
Nance crossed her heart with a floury finger.
"I'm going to be a actress," said Birdie.
It was fortunate for Nance that Birdie's term at the home soon ended. She
was at that impressionable age which reflects the nearest object of
interest, and shortly after Birdie's departure she abandoned the idea of
joining her on the professional boards, and decided instead to become a
veterinary surgeon.
This decision was reached through a growing intimacy with the lame old
soldier who presided over the Forest Home stables. "Doc" was a familiar
character in the county, and his advice about horses was sought far and
near. Next to horses he liked children, and after them dogs. Adults came
rather far down the line, excepting always Miss Stanley, whom he
regarded as infallible.
On the red-letter Sunday when Uncle Jed had tramped the ten miles out
from town to assure himself of Nance's well-being, he discovered in Doc
an old comrade of the Civil War. They had been in the same company, Uncle
Jed as a drummer boy, and Doc in charge of the cavalry horses.
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