I looked at him in wonder, as he took a tin pot from out of a cupboard,

and brought forth his razors, soap, and brush.

"Give me that looking-glass that hangs on the wall, my lad; that's it."

I fetched the glass from the nail on which it hung, and then he set it

upright, propped by a little support behind, and then I sat still as he

placed his razor in boiling water, soaped his chin all round, and

scraped it well, removing the grey stubble, and leaving it perfectly

clean.

It seemed to me a curious thing to do on a breakfast-table, but it was

the old man's custom, and it was not likely that he would change his

habits for me.

"There," he said smiling, "that's a job you won't want to do just yet

awhile. Now hang up the glass, and you can go out in the garden. I

shall be there by and by. Head hurt you?"

"Oh no, sir!" I said.

"Shoulder?"

"Only a little stiff, sir."

Then I don't think we need have the doctor any more.

I laughed, for the idea seemed ridiculous.

"Well, then, we won't waste his time. Put on your hat and go and see

him. You know where he lives?"

I said that I did; and I went up to his house, saw him, and he sent me

away again, patting me on the shoulder that was not stiff.

"Yes, you're all right," he said. "Now take care and don't get into my

clutches again."




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