“And no mistake. So much the better. You’ve been expecting and expecting, and thinking about emptying that tub, and getting shovels full o’ pearls out o’ the bottom, and it’s made you forget all about your sore chesty and give it time to get well. ’Tis quite well now, aren’t it?”
“I think so, Bob; only the doctor says I’m to be very careful.”
“Of course you have to be, my lad. But don’t you fidget; I’ll tell you when number one cask’s ripe, and then don’t you expect too much, for it’s like lots o’ things in this here world; it may turn out werry disappointing. You puts in pounds o’ trouble, and don’t get out an ounce o’ good. P’raps there won’t be a teaspoonful o’ pearls, and them only as small as dust.”
“Oh!” ejaculated Carey.
“No use to reckon on them, sir, but all the same, sometimes when a tub’s emptied it turns out wonderful.”
But the time wore on; tub after tub was filled, and the contents grew more and more liquid, and the testing was still kept in abeyance.
“Never mind,” said the doctor, laughing, when Carey protested; “there is no harm in waiting.”
And day by day Carey grew stronger, gradually taking his part in the daily avocations, fishing and shooting; and it was a grand day for him when one day the doctor thought that he might join him on an expedition to the lake.
“I’m all right now, Bob,” he said, hurrying to the old sailor after this.
“Well, yes, you seem to be, sir,” said Bostock; “what with the doctor’s looking you up and down and me feeding you, we’ve pretty well made a man of you, and you’re nearly all right; but I don’t quite take what you mean.”