Although James was on holiday, he occasionally acted as deputy when his grandfather and the latter's assistant were not at hand. And James was quite competent to do so, for he was a fully qualified surgeon.
"Let's see your tongue--ah! hum!" and the Long 'Un affected a serious expression as he mixed a stiffish dose of black draught. The urchin pulled a very wry face as he tasted the dose, and stopped for breath half-way through it.
The urchin obeyed him, and then, bursting into tears, was pleased to be violently sick.
"You'll feel better now--and here's a penny for you," quoth Jim Mortimer, in a truly paternal way for four-and-twenty.
"I--I came up for me mother's medicine," he quavered; "I--she--she didn't know I'd been eatin' pears."
The Long 'Un threw back his head and burst into a roar of laughter.
"By George! what a shot! Why, Johnny, I thought you'd come to be doctored. Well, here's sixpence for you. Call again for the medicine--I don't know anything about it."
The urchin took the sixpence with a smile showing through his tears, and with a final sniff shuffled out of the waiting-room.
The Long 'Un still looking highly amused, approached the telephone and rang up the asylum.
"All quiet except the major. We've had to put him in the padded room."
"Yes, sir; broke out at breakfast. It took three of us to get him down. He very near pulled Smith's windpipe out."
"I think I'll come across and have a look at him," said Jim. "I have an idea I can handle the old chap."
"Glad to see you, Mr James," replied the head attendant; "you're going back to town to-day, aren't you, sir?"
Without bothering to alter his garb, Jim Mortimer, his gay dressing-gown sweeping the ground, strolled out into the garden and sauntered along the gravel path which led to the high road. As he went he pulled lazily at his pipe. Both of the gardeners touched their hats and smiled a welcome as he passed; the Long 'Un was a favourite all over the settlement.
Certainly he looked a quaint figure as he emerged into the high road--a quaint but not unpleasing one. Long he was--six feet, and four inches over that--but square-shouldered and supple. His carriage was easy, but not of a military description, and he stooped slightly, with the stoop of the rowing-man rather than that of one engaged in sedentary work or of one who has overgrown his strength. He looked, as he strolled across the road, like a long, lean hound, trained to the hour, hard as steel and tough as hickory. His face was well cut, with rather sleepy eyes and a certain gentleness about the corners of the mouth that had caused his school-fellows to regard him as somewhat of a "soft"--until he hit them. His hair was clipped short and well brushed, and his complexion was pink with health and the application of cold water.