But the doctor was an enthusiast, a description of person who never tires, and he judged of others by himself.
“How far have you got now, Mr Prose?”
“Oh—I think I have got an inch and a half good,” answered Prose, quite exhausted.
“No more!” exclaimed Macallan; “why, you must work harder, or we never shall blast it.”
“I have been blasting it in my heart,” thought Prose, “for these last ten minutes,” and he resumed his labour.
“You know nothing of mineralogy?” inquired the doctor, after a silence of a few minutes.
“This is my first lesson, doctor,” answered Prose, out loud; and muttering in continuation, “I do declare it shall be the last.”
“It’s a very amusing study,” continued Macallan; “but, like most others, rather dry at first.”
“Anything but dry,” thought Prose, wiping his face with his handkerchief.
“I shall be happy to give you any information in my power,” said Macallan; “but you must be attentive—nothing is to be obtained without labour.”