“A little while!” said Oliver, sadly.
“Yes; your wound is getting better fast.”
Panton groaned.
“And yours, too,” said Drew smiling.
“Yea, that’s right, grin,” said Panton, sourly. “You’d laugh if I were dying.”
“I don’t know about then,” replied Drew, “but I can’t help laughing now.”
“Brute!”
“No, I’m not, I was only laughing at your irritability and petulance. Sure sign that you are getting better, my lad, isn’t it, doctor?”
Mr Rimmer gave the speaker a good-tempered nod.
“Oh, yes,” he said, “Mr Panton’s coming right again, fast. Nice healthy appearance about his wound, and Mr Lane’s, too. When the sea fails to get me a living I think I shall set up as quack doctor. Come, gentlemen, you are getting better, you know. Not long ago you were on your backs; then you managed to sit on deck; then to stand for a bit, and now you have been here for ever so long watching us. That don’t look as if you were going back.”