"
"Poor old Dot! you needn't talk as if you're such a desperate old
maid,--you're not twenty yet. And I'm sure it's a good thing for you
that you haven't got any of the young men about here--to help be
aldermen! Wait till you come and stay with us in London, then you'll
soon find some one to work for, as you call it."
"I don't know," said Dot, thoughtfully; "somehow I think I shall never
marry."
"I suppose you mean you'd rather be a nun or something serious of that
sort."
"Well, to tell the truth, I have been thinking lately if perhaps I
couldn't do something,--perhaps go into a hospital, or something of
that sort."
"Oh, nonsense, Dot! Think of all the horrible, dirty people you'd have
to attend to. Ugh!"
"Christ didn't think of that when He washed the feet of His disciples,"
said little Dot, sententiously.
"Why, Dot, how dreadfully religious you're getting! You want a good
shaking! Besides, isn't it a little impious to imply that the apostles
were horrible, dirty people?"
"You know what I meant," said Dot, flushing.
"Yes, of course, dear; and I think I know where you've been.
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