“No, but if I recollect right, to be a surgeon you ought to walk the hospital, as they term it.”
“Well, and haven’t I for these last four years? When I carries out my basket of physic I walks the hospital right through, twice at least every day in the week.”
“That’s Greenwich Hospital.”
“Well, so it is, and plenty of surgical cases in it. However, the doctor and I must come to a proper understanding. I didn’t clean his boots this morning. I wish, if you see him, Tom, you’d reason with him a little.”
“I’ll see what I can do, but don’t be rash. Good bye, Tom; mind you tell the doctor that I called.”
“Well, I will; but that’s not in my indentures.”
I called in at the widow’s after I left the doctor’s shop, and communicated the intended rebellion on the part of Tom.
“Well,” said Mrs St. Felix, “I shall not forget to make the Spanish claim, and prevent Tom from walking Spanish. The doctor is very inconsiderate; he forgets that Tom’s regard for liquorice is quite as strong as his own liking for a cigar. Now, if the doctor don’t promise me to have a fresh supply for Tom, I won’t let him have a cigar for himself.”
The doctor was compelled to surrender at discretion. The next wagon brought down one hundredweight of liquorice, and Tom recovered his health and the smiles of Anny Whistle.
When I left the widow’s I proceeded to the hospital to find Anderson and my father. As I walked along I perceived Dick Harness on a bench, who hailed me.