“Bad as he can be,” was the stern reply.
“But can’t you— Bah! absurd! you know your business better than I can tell you. Poor lad! How can I face his father when we get into port? It will be heart-breaking work. It is heart-breaking work, doctor, for the young dog seemed to have a way of getting round your heart, and I couldn’t feel this accident more keenly if he were my own son.”
“Nor I,” said the doctor, “if he were my own brother.”
“God bless him, and bring him safely through it!” said the captain, softly, as he laid his hand gently on the boy’s brow. “I’m glad his face is not disfigured.”
“Yes, so am I,” said the doctor; “it does not tell tales of the terrible mischief that has been done.”
“What do you call it—concussion of the brain?”
“Yes, there is no fracture of the skull; only of his collar-bone, and that is a trifle compared to the other.”
“You must bring him round, doctor. Troubles never come singly.”
“What, have you some other trouble on hand?” said the doctor, rather impatiently, for he wanted the captain to go and leave him alone with his patient.
“Yes, don’t you know?”