“But it’s very pitiful to see a lad of his years shrinking like a timid girl, and changing colour whenever he is spoken to. He seems to have no spirit at all.”
“He has though, and plenty, only it’s crusted over, and can’t get out; I noticed a dozen good signs to-day.”
“A dozen?” said Sir John.
“Well, more or less. Don’t ask me to be mathematical. You’ll want to know the aliquot parts next,” said the doctor snappishly.
“I see you want your dinner,” said Sir John, with a smile.
“I do—horribly. This sea-air makes me feel ravenous. But, as I was going to say, there were abundant signs of the change beginning. He’s ashamed of his—his—”
“Well, say it—cowardice,” said Sir John sadly. “Yes, poor fellow! he is ashamed of it, as I well know.”
“But he can’t help it, weak and unstrung as he is. It will come all right, only let’s get him out of his misery, as we used to call it. Get him to make his first plunge, and he’ll soon begin to swim. Did you see what a brave fight he made of it over and over again to-day? There, I’m sure we’re right; and, my word, what a chance over this yacht.”
“Yes, it would have been folly to hesitate.”
“But it’s going to cost you a pretty penny, my friend.”