She was taken to the
Battle Harbor Hospital, operated upon, and was soon perfectly well. To
this day she is living, a robust contented woman, the mother of a
family, and, perchance, a grandmother.
Grenfell was happy. Here was something better than jogging over
English highways behind a horse and visiting well-to-do grumbling
patients. He was out on the sea he loved, meeting adventure in fog and
storm and gale. That was better than a gig on a country road. He was
helping people to be happy. He prized that far more than the wealth he
might have accumulated, or the reputation he might have gained at
home, as a famous physician or surgeon. There is no happiness in the
world to compare with the happiness that comes with the knowledge
that one is making others happy and helping them to better living and
contentment.
Without knowing it, Grenfell was building a world-fame. If he had
known it, he would not have cared a straw. He was working not for fame
but for results--for the good he could do others. Nothing else has
ever influenced him. Every day he was doing endless good turns without
pay or the thought of pay.
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