But a fellow can't help the way he 's made, and I tell you, Will, I cried myself to sleep many a night, when I was along about ten or twelve, because I did n't have a sister like most of the other boys. And since I have been a man [dear Jim, seventeen years and six months old] I have had the feeling just as strong as I had it then; only I 've had to keep it under. Of course, I know I 'll have a wife some day. And that 's another thing, Will, I never can see how the fellows can talk about that as they do. I could n't any more talk about my wife lightly and laughingly now, while I don't know who she 'll be, than I could do it after I had her. I can't explain it, but that 's the way I feel. But it 'll be years and years before I have a wife, and do you know, Will—I suppose this is another streak of woman in me—when I think of a wife, I never think so much of some one who is going to be all feeble and clinging, dependent on me, as I do of somebody who will be great and strong and serene, and will let me take care of her only because she loves me so much, and not a bit because she needs to be taken care of. But a sister is different. I 'd just like to have a sister that could n't do without me. And, by Jove, if ever a man had the thing he wanted put right straight into his hand, I should think I had. Don't you?"

"Yes, I should think you had, you dear old muff," I said. "But what in thunder are you going to do with the child? You can't carry her back to college with us."