But Daddy refused to commit himself until after he had thoroughly sampled my effort.

“It is first rate,” he said, “and you can take another course if you like.”

“You know I brought the cookery book with me,” I informed him, “but I’ve stopped using it.  It tells one to take pinches of this, and pints of that, and cupfuls of other things that have never been heard of in Sweetapple Cove.  It is dreadfully discouraging.  I suggested roast beef to Susie, for to-night, and she stared at me and I laughed at my own folly.  There is just one recently imported cow in the place, and a small calf, and they’re alive, as are the goats.  I can’t reconcile my mind to the idea of a live cow being beef, and the calf is a personal friend of mine.”

“I have hitherto considered you as being somewhat ornamental,” said Daddy.  “Now that you are also proving useful I am deeming you a profitable investment.”

So we had lunch together, for I can’t get used to the custom of calling it dinner.

“That was a splendid sail we had,” I said.  “The sea was perfectly delightful.  And that poor man was so glad to be brought here.  Dr. Grant is doing wonderful things.”

“A smart chap,” commented Daddy.  “If he has to do this for a living I’m sorry for him, and if he isn’t compelled to he’s probably some sort of useful crank.”

“At any rate Sweetapple Cove appreciates him,” I said.

“I have no doubt he’s an angel with pin-feathers sprouting all over him,” retorted Dad.  “But it isn’t business, which I take the liberty of defining as the way of making the best of one’s opportunities instead of frittering them away.  He has unquestionably done a few dozens of poor devils a lot of good, including myself.  But he could find many more cripples in any big city, and a few of them might have bank accounts.”

Just then we heard some one whistling.  I was interested to note that the tune was from a fairly recent comic opera that can hardly have reached the general population of Sweetapple Cove.

“There is your crank,” I said, rather viciously.

He knocked at the door and came in, breezily, as he generally does.

“I’ve got to be off,” he announced.  “I shall probably not return till to-morrow night, or perhaps the morning after.  You are getting along very well, Mr. Jelliffe.  Just let me have another look before I go away.”

The inspection seemed to be entirely satisfactory.

“Well, I’ll run now,” said Dr. Grant.  “I’ll come and see you the moment I get back.”

He hurried out again, and I saw him join Sammy and the Frenchman.  I waved my hand at him as the boat was leaving the cove, but I suppose that he wasn’t looking for he made no answer, though Yves wigwagged with a flaming bandanna.

“Now wouldn’t that jar you?” said Daddy.  “Wouldn’t it inculcate into you a chastened spirit?  Doesn’t he consider me as an important patient?  Just comes in and grins and runs away again, for a couple of days, as if I were not likely to need him at any moment.  He’s the limit!”