"That he is disgracing the department?"
"No. That he is wrecking his final chance to amount to anything that's practical? That, if he holds on here, he must keep within some sort of limits in the things he says? That, if he lets go this present opportunity, he'll turn into the worst of all things, a mental derelict?"
The doctor groaned at the suggestion.
"Opdyke, I'll be hanged if I'll put in all my time, playing intellectual wet-nurse to Scott Brenton! I've served my turn. If ever he began to cut his wisdom teeth, it's time he was about it."
The professor took up the metaphor and cast it back upon the doctor.
"A good many babies die of teething," he said. "I've heard you say, yourself, that it was the one time in all a man's life when he was most dependent on the ministrations of the doctor."
The doctor rose and straightened up his shoulders.
"Fairly caught," he confessed. "Well, I'll do my best. Meanwhile, how is Reed?"
"Too busy to think much about himself."
"Not overworking?" the doctor questioned sharply.