When, a fortnight after the event, Dr. Ryan ascertained that Rich had merely brought the ends of the tendon within half an inch, and let it go at that, he shook his head, looked anxious, but said nothing. Dr. Slaughter was not so reticent, and declared the parts would never unite, but grow to the sheath, and the man be lame for life.
Richardson now pursued the even tenor of his way, without the least interruption till the middle of the winter, when he was called to old Mr. Avery, a shingle weaver, who had cut himself with his draw-shave. The wound bled a great deal before Richardson arrived, and the patient being an old man, it healed very slowly. Avery became impatient, and thought his physician was not doing enough. Rich, unable to convince him, as he was a very ignorant and obstinate man, that the process of healing must necessarily be slow, on account of his age, and that nature must do the work, called in Dr. Ryan, who confirmed the judgment of Rich and approved his method, but the patient not convinced, fussed and fretted, said Rich "was doing nothing," and talked about "sending for Dr. Slaughter." Rich, at his wits' end, and not relishing the idea of having a patient taken out of his hands, cast about for some way of keeping him quiet.
At length, in a wakeful hour of the night, he bethought himself of a means of relief, suggested by something he had read in one of the old romances while in college, and the next day proceeded to put it in practice.
"Mr. Avery," he said, "I think I have discovered something that will be just the thing you need, and answer the purpose completely."
"Do let me know it, then, right off. I ought to be at work in the shop this minute."
"Do you think the draw-shave that you cut yourself with has been used since? Because if it has, nothing can be done, and the charm will be broken."
"No, I know it 'tain't; 'cause I laid it across the horse, and the shop's been locked up ever sence. Then you can charm; that's something like. There was a woman in this town could charm; but she died four year ago; and she didn't give her power to anybody. They say they kin, if they like, give it to anybody else, that is, if they're a seventh son or darter, not without."
"You don't believe that nonsense, I hope."
"Sartain sure I do. I know that woman could charm. But you doctors never believe anything you don't do yourselves, or don't read in a book; but that's nuther here nor there. What is it you've found out?"
"Well, Mr. Avery, the ancient wise folks, a great many hundred years ago, had a custom of applying the rust of the weapon or tool that made the wound to it; or, if there was no rust, of making the applications to the instrument; and by some secret, mysterious influence, as they held, the wound was healed."