The lad sighed.
"The doctor says they are," replied he wearily.
"Then what are you fussing about?" blustered Burton, Senior. "You've no cause to be downhearted, my son. Why, when you get back to school you will bound ahead like a trooper. You will find that in a few months you will make up all you've lost—see if you don't; and I believe you will enjoy studying, too, after being so long deprived of books."
"I know I shall see more sense in doing it than I ever did before," asserted Christopher with earnestness. "Somehow, since I've talked so much with Mr. McPhearson, learning things seems more worthwhile."
"You like the old Scotchman, don't you?"
"He's a brick!"
"Then you wouldn't consider it a hardship to be in his company for a while?"
"How—in his company?" asked the boy, glancing up quickly in puzzled surprise.
"Oh, I don't know," was the vague retort.
Nevertheless, as Mr. Burton turned his eyes away, Christopher noticed his father was smiling the meditative, enigmatic smile that he smiled once in a blue moon. It was usually when some particularly delightful reverie occupied his mind that his face took on that especial expression. The lad wondered what he was thinking about this time.