Andy entered, twirling his hat awkwardly in his hand.
"Good-morning, Andy," said the doctor, cordially. "Take a seat."
"Thank you, sir," said Andy, but did not sit down.
"What is the matter? You are looking rather blue this morning."
"Faith, doctor, and that's the way I feel entirely."
"You're not sick, are you? Let me feel your pulse."
"No, I'm not sick, but it's discouraged I am."
"Why should a stout boy in good health be discouraged?"
"I can't get any work to do, and I'm afraid we'll all starve."
"It strikes me," said the doctor, fixing his eyes on Andy, enjoying the effect of his intended announcement, "that I wouldn't talk of starving, if I were as rich as you are, Andy."