'You are a clever fellow, and you are wasting the best years of your life in a hole like Swamp Creek,' said Jim.
'I'm not a clever fellow. I might have been. I had every chance. I drifted, old man, just drifted. Do you know my besetting sin?'
'Didn't know you had any sins,' said Jim.
'I have, and the worst of the lot is a constant "it isn't-worth-the-bother" sort of feeling. If it had not been for that I might have got on. As a medical student I was quick at learning, too quick. Things came so easily to me that I never bothered about 'em. That's not the way to get on. It's the plodders beat all chaps like me.'
'Nonsense!' said Jim. 'You never value yourself at your true worth.'
'I believe you are right, although I'm not conceited enough to let the world think so. By gad, Jim, I'd like a chance, a big chance. Something with danger in it. Something I might risk my life in to benefit my fellow-creatures. Do you know, Jim Dennis, I'm always hovering on the verge of a grand discovery, and it never comes off. When I have it all fixed up nicely, and think this is the thing, the whole blessed fabric topples over, and I am buried in the ruins of my own fancies.'
'But you manage to scramble out of the débris,' said Jim.
'That's just it. I scramble out of the débris and commence to pick up the best part of the breakages. It's the piecing 'em together again, Jim, that troubles a fellow. They never seem to fit in, or to stick together when they are fixed up,' said Dr Tom, dreamily.
Jim Dennis knew Tom Sheridan had grit in him. He knew that no man had a braver heart or nobler courage, if put to the test, but it would be an uncommonly hard test, to bring out those qualities to their fullest extent.
A disappointed man Dr Tom Sheridan certainly was not, nor was he an unhappy man. He was too good for Swamp Creek, and yet it was good for the Creek for him to be there.