"It makes them _very_ happy," said the agent's wife.
"Not long ago," said Duncan, "I saw a little girl with a stick of
wood for a dolly. Are they not afraid to play with these pretty
things?"
"Sometimes," she laughed, "but it makes them happy just to look at
them. But they do play with them. There is a little girl up the bay
who _has kissed the paint off her dolly_!"
And so even the tiniest, most forlorn little lad or lass is not
forgotten by Doctor Grenfell. He is the Santa Claus of the coast. He
never forgets. Nothing, if it will bring joy into the life of any one,
is too big or too small for his attention.
Can we wonder that Grenfell is happy in his work? Can we wonder that
nothing in the world could induce him to leave the Labrador for a life
of ease? Battling, year in and year out, with stormy seas in summer,
and ice and snow and arctic blizzards in winter, the joy of life is in
him. Every day has a thrill for him. Here in this rugged land of
endeavor he has for thirty years been healing the sick and saving
life, easing pain, restoring cripples to strength, feeding and
clothing and housing the poor, and putting upon their feet with useful
work unfortunate men that they might look the world in the face
bravely and independently.
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