CHAPTER LXIV.
THE SAPIENT DOCTOR MUGGINS CAME IN HASTE--IMPEDIMENTS IN THE WAY OFTHE PRESCRIPTION--DWELLS ON ARTIFICIAL LIMBS--OLD-REMINISCENCES--THETORMENTOR.
Reader, we will return for a little time to our old friend, Mole, inEngland.
Mr. Mole was sad.
For so many years of his life had old Isaac Mole led a wanderingcareer, that he found it exceedingly difficult, not to say irksome, tosettle down to the prosy existence which they had all dropped into.
He never complained, it is true.
But he fell into a sort of settled melancholy, which nothing couldshake off, and even grew neglectful of the bottle.
His friends grew anxious.
They wished him to take medical advice.
He resisted all persuasion stoutly.
So they had recourse to artifice, and invited an eminent medical man totheir house as a visitor.
And then under the guise of a friendly chat, the doctor took hisobservations.
But the peculiar ailment, if ailment it could be called, of Isaac Mole,completely baffled the man of science at first.
It was only in a casual conversation that, being an observing man, hediscovered the real truth.
"Our patient wants a roving commission," said the physician to himself.
And then he communicated his own convictions to old Jack.
"I scarcely believe it possible, doctor," said Jack.
But the doctor was positive.
"Nothing will do him any good but to get on the move; I'm as sure ofthat as I am that he has no physical ailment."
"What's to be done then?" demanded Harkaway. "He can't travel alone."
"I don't know that," said the doctor; "he's hale and wiry enough. Theonly difficulty that I can see, is Mrs. Mole."
"I'll undertake to get over that," said Jack.
"You will?"
"Yes."
"It is settled then," said the physician, with a smile.
"Good."
"What would do him more good than all the physic in the world, would beto send him after your son."
"My Jack!"
"Yes."
"Impossible. Why, Jack is _en route_ for Turkey."
"What of that?" coolly inquired the doctor.
"Consider the distance, my dear doctor."
"Pshaw, sir. Distance is nothing nowadays. It was a very differentthing when I was a boy. Take my word for it, Mr. Harkaway, our patientwill jump at the chance."
"He's very much attached to my roving boy."
"I know it," returned the doctor. "Never a day passes but he speaks ofhim; I declare that I never had a single interview with Mr. Mole, butthat he has managed somehow to turn the conversation upon your son andhis pranks."
"Oh, Jack, he has played him some dreadful tricks."
"Yes," returned the physician dryly, "and so has Jack's father, by allaccounts."
"Ahem!"
"And yet I really believe that he enjoys the recollection of the boy'sinfamous practical jokes."
"I believe you are right," responded Harkaway.
A day or two later on the doctor was seated with Mr. Mole.
"Mr. Mole."
"Doctor."
"Your health must be looked to. You'll have to travel."
"How, doctor?" said Mole.
"Young Harkaway is in foreign parts, and his prolonged absence causeshis parents considerable uneasiness, and you must go and look afterhim."
Mole's eyes twinkled.
"Do you mean it?"
"I do. When would you like to start?"
"To-day."
"Very good. The sooner the better," said the doctor.
Mr. Mole's countenance fell suddenly.
An ugly thought crossed him.
What would Mrs. Mole say?
"There is one matter I would like to consult you on, doctor."
"What might that be?" demanded the doctor.
"My wife might have a word to say upon the subject."
"I will undertake to remove her scruples," said the doctor.
"You will?"
"Yes. She will never object when she knows how important your missionis."
"Doctor," exclaimed Mr. Mole, joyously; "you are a trump."
A delay naturally occurred, however.
Mr. Mole could not travel with his wooden stumps, his friends one andall agreed.
No.
He must have a pair of cork legs made.
The doctor who had been attending our old friend knew of a maker ofartificial limbs who was a wonderful man, according to all accounts.
"Yes," said Mole, "cork legs well hosed will----"
At this moment a voice tuning up under the window cut him short,
"He gave his own leg to the undertaker, And sent for a skilful cork-leg maker. Ritooral looral."
"That's Dick Harvey. Infamous!" ejaculated Mr. Mole.
"On a brace of broomsticks never I'll walk, But I'll have symmetrical limbs of cork. Ritooral looral."
"Monstrous!" exclaimed Mr. Mole; "close the window, sir, if youplease."
It was all very well to say "Close it," but this was easier said thandone.
Dick Harvey had fixed it beyond the skill of that skilful mechanicianto unfasten.
* * * *
The aggravating minstrel continued without--
"Than timber this cork is better by half, Examine likewise my elegant calf. Ritooral looral----"
"I will have that window closed," cried Mole.
He arose, forgetting in his haste that he was minus one leg, and downhe rolled.
The artificial limb-maker lunged after him, and succeeded with infinitedifficulty in getting him on to his feet again.
"Dear, dear!" said Mr. Mole. "No matter, I can manage it."
He picked up the nearest object to hand, and hurled it out of window.
Jack Harkaway's Boy Tinker Among The Turks Page 6
