The doctor looked serious. "I wonder! Unquestionably Selby might have learned Indian weaving. But--"
"That wouldn't prove very much. No, but it would be something. Suppose you ask Mrs. Bussey to take me up to see Ben. His woodcarving will supply a reason for my visit. And incidentally I'll find out what Selby pays him."
Mrs. Bussey was obviously both surprised and flattered at the request that she conduct this important visitor to her son's room. She had evidently taken Dr. Underwood's chaffing use of the title "Doctor" in good earnest, and insisted upon regarding Burton as a famous physician.
"You can't do nothing for Ben, Doctor," she said, pursing up her lips and shaking her head. "He's that bad nobody can do anything for him. Henry Underwood done for him all right."
He found Ben Bussey in a wheeled chair near a window which in the daytime must command a pleasant view of the garden. He was a heavy-featured young man, somewhat gaunt and hollow-eyed from his confinement, but nowise repulsive. His lower limbs were wrapped in an afghan, but his hands, which held a piece of wood and his knife, were strong and capable looking. A table with the material for his work was drawn up beside his chair.
"He found Ben Bussey in a wheeled chair near a window." [Page 200]
"Dr. Underwood happened to mention that you did woodcarving," Burton said, drawing up a chair for himself, "and I asked if I might come up and see it. I'm interested in things of that sort. That's good work you are doing. How did you come to learn carving?"
"Just picked it up," Ben answered. He was looking at his visitor with an air of quiet indifference, as though the comings and goings of other people could have nothing vital to do with his isolated life.
"Ben's real smart with his hands," said Mrs. Bussey proudly.