“We'll see,” said Mr. Scutts, vaguely.
Mr. Flynn returned to the charge next day, but got no satisfaction. Mr. Scutts preferred to talk instead of the free board and lodging his friend was getting. On the subject of such pay for such work he was almost eloquent.
“I'll bide my time,” said Mr. Flynn, darkly. “Treat me fair and I'll treat you fair.”
His imprisonment came to an end on the fourth day. There was a knock at the door, and the sound of men's voices, followed by the hurried appearance of Mrs. Scutts.
“It's Jim's lot,” she said, in a hurried whisper. “I've just come up to get the room ready.”
Mr. Scutts took his friend by the hand, and after warmly urging him not to forget the expert instructions he had received concerning his back, slipped into the back room, and, a prey to forebodings, awaited the result.
“Well, he looks better,” said the doctor, regarding Mr. Flynn.
“Much better,” said his companion.
Mrs. Scutts shook her head. “His pore back don't seem no better, sir,” she said in a low voice. “Can't you do something for it?”
“Let me have a look at it,” said the doctor. “Undo your shirt.”