"Certainly not! It's a comfort to have somebody at hand who is ready to fight me at any moment," said Mr. Linden.
"What have you been doing since I went away?"
"Reading, writing, and considering the world generally."
"From this Pattaquasset centre!"
"Why not?—if lines meet and make it one."
"How do you get the ends of the lines in your hands!" said the doctor. "A centre, I feel it to be—but very like the centre of the earth—socially and politically. You see, I have just emerged to the surface, and come down again. Who has taken care of you?"
"I feel quite equal to the task of taking care of myself, thank you, doctor."
"You don't mean to say, man, you have dressed your arm yourself?"
"What do you suppose my powers are equal to?"
"That is a matter," said the doctor, "upon which I stand in doubt—which gives me an uncomfortable, troublesome sort of feeling when I am in your presence. It must be superstition. I suppose I shall get the better of it—or of you!—in time. Meanwhile, who has dressed your arm for you?"