“Quite correct,” smiled the scholar. “And we can go further than that, as I believe Tom guesses. If we say ‘I cannot’ often enough, and keep thinking and declaring that we are victims of fate, and have no chance to get away from some place, or to succeed, we get ourselves into almost as bad a condition as this poor chap.”
“That’s how Mr. Whitley put it, once,” Tom conceded. “That’s what I was thinking about. If we get this man where he is more like a civilized man and talk about ‘you can’ and get him to feeling that he can remember instead of that he can’t—maybe——”
“It’s better than hanging around doing nothing,” Nicky urged.
“We can try it,” Mr. Gray agreed. “There have been many wonders worked by ‘Modern Magic’—psychology applied to daily life.”
“What’s your name?” he inquired of the shaking man.
“Why—I didn’t use it for so long—Jack—just call me Jack.”
“All right, Jack,” said Bill. “You throw back those shoulders and step out like a young fellow. You’re going back to civilization, for awhile.”
The look of surprise in the dim eyes became one of pleading.
“It can’t be—I can’t hear you right, saying that! Nobody would bother with an old beach comber like me.”
“Well,” said Tom, “we think we’re somebody, and we are going to bother. It not only can be true, it is true!”