The Doctor was silent for some moments. The Jim who could make old things do was not the Jim he had known. Jim, up to last September, had always been fastidious about the cut of his coats, and most partial to fancy waistcoats. Not that the Doctor had really minded paying for them--in fact, he had liked to see Jim well-turned-out. What he had objected to was Jim's utter disregard of even moderation in expenditure. And to think that this same Jim had been making last winter's things "do"!
The Doctor reflected a good deal on Koko's replies. It occurred to him that if he had tried to understand Jim better in the past, this split would never have occurred. He had thundered rebukes at Jim much as an army sergeant would upbraid a refractory private, and Jim, in return, had simply been cheeky. Now, supposing he had reasoned with the lad in a kindly, gentle manner, would that not have proved more effectual than inditing fierce epistles to his grandson, when the latter was in town, or shouting a lecture to him across the telephone, as on that September morning of vivid remembrance?
Jim had never known a mother's care. He had been brought up by his grandfather, who had taken a pride in him such as a man takes in a handsome horse or dog. And so Jim ran wild, and, in the end, was expelled from Threeways.
Such were the thoughts that coursed through the old Doctor's mind as he paced down Mount Street by the side of George Somers.
"Here we are," said Koko at length.
So this was Jim's surgery! The old Doctor halted and stared at the shabby-looking corner building. This was where Jim had been getting his living since he had been barred from the old roof-tree in Eastfolk!
SO THIS WAS JIM'S SURGERY
"Did he rent the entire building?" inquired Dr Mortimer.
"Yes. It was a pawnbroker's place before Jim took it."