He also thought of the days he had spent wandering about Sydney, almost penniless, until a friendly hand had helped him to Swamp Creek and a monotonous existence, and yet it was an existence he did not dislike. He had not an enemy in the place, so far as he knew, and everyone was kind to him.
True, he did a lot of work, and got very few fees, and had even on one occasion to borrow money from Jim Dennis to purchase drugs to supply to sick people.
'When all my accounts are settled,' said Dr Tom to Jim Dennis, 'I mean to buy a station and throw this job up.'
'Don't let the folk around here know that or you'll never be paid. They would not lose you for anything, old man.'
It was very hot after the rain, and Dr Tom had very little else to do but kill time.
Having bottled up his medicines, he commenced to smoke and think.
What a life his had been. One of those men who with a little exertion might have made a name for themselves, he had been contented to drift carelessly and aimlessly through life.
On board ship he had acquired the art of cultivating laziness, and he was an adept at killing time.
The doctor was a visionary dreamer, and happy in a thousand fancies he conjured up in his imagination.
Children loved him, for no one could tell them a yarn suitable to their tender years better than Dr Tom.