“Yes, Fred, old fellow, I suppose it is, for it means quick recovery. I always like to have to do with a patient who looks relieved as soon as I come into the room. He little knows how he is helping me towards his cure.”
“Poor fellow! he doesn’t think, then, of what is to come?”
“His sufferings?” said the doctor. “No, only about how I may be able to relieve them.”
“Didn’t mean that, old fellow,” said the professor. “I meant his mental sufferings over the fees; eh, Frank?”
“Don’t try to joke, Fred,” said the doctor; “this place makes me feel solemn—the gentle calm of the oasis, the trickling of the water in this thirsty land, and the simple, patriarchal life of the people.”
“Ha, ha!” laughed the professor softly; “hear this Frank?”
“Hear what?” said the young man, in a tone or voice which suggested that the calm of the desert was influencing him too.
“Bob Morris talking as if it wouldn’t take much to make him give up civilisation and take to a nomad life.”
“Well,” said the doctor quietly, “I confess that already I feel something of its fascination, and I am glad we have come. All this is growing irresistibly attractive.”
“And when I’ve been at home and have vaunted the beauty of the old, simple, patriarchal life, and told of how I enjoyed it during my Egyptian explorations, you laughed at me, and as good as called me a lunatic. What do you say to that?”