"You did sit down rather hard," remarked the doctor, with a twitch of his lips. In half an hour he had removed thirty-seven pieces of gravel, large and small, and departed, after ordering rest and a few days' sojourn in bed.
Hardly had the doctor departed when Hickey arrived, full of importance and enthusiasm. For a moment he stood at the foot of the bed surveying the bruised hero with the affectionate and fatherly joy of a Barnum suddenly discovering a new freak.
"My boy," he said, happily, "you're a wonder. You're great. You're it. There's been nothing like it ever happened. Smithy, my boy, you're a genius. You're the wonder of the age!"
"I suppose everyone's excited?" said Smith, faintly realising that Fate had touched him in her flight and made him famous.
"Excited? Why, they're howling with curiosity," responded Hickey, who, having cautiously turned the key in the door, returned and continued with importance:
"Say, but I suppose you don't realise what we can make of this, do you?"
"What do you mean?" said Smith.
"First, where are those thirty-seven pieces of gravel?"
"I threw them away."
"My boy, my boy!" said Hickey, sitting down and burying his head in his arms. "Pearls before swine."