ive, or exist, and to wait.
Just what he was waiting for he would have found hard to tell. Of course
he told his sister when she came to see him, which was at least once
every other day, that he was waiting for his legs to get whole and
strong again, and then he should, of course, go to sea. He told Doctor
Sheldon much the same thing, and the doctor said, "Why, of course, Cap'n
Kendrick. We'll have you on your own quarter deck again one of these
days." He said it with heartiness and apparent sincerity, but Sears was
skeptical. After the doctor's visits he was likely to be blue and
dejected for a time, and Judah noticed this fact but attributed it to
quite a different cause.

"It's high time that doctor swab quit comin' here to see you," declared
Judah. "Runnin' in here and lettin' go anchor and settin' round and
sayin', 'Well, how goes it to-day?' and 'Nice spell of weather we're
havin',' and the like of that, and then goin' home and chalkin' up
another dollar on the bill. No sense to it, I say. No wonder you look
glum, Cap'n Sears. Makes _me_ glum, and 'tain't _my_ money that's bein'
talked out of me, nuther. Hear what he said just now? 'I must go,' he
says. 'And what did you say? Why, you said, 'Don't hurry, Doctor. What
do you want to go for?' All I could do to keep from bustin' out in a
laugh. _I_ know what you was sayin' to yourself, you see. 'Stead of
sayin', 'What do you want to go for?' you was thinkin', 'What in blue
blazes do you want to _come_ for?' Haw, haw! That was it, wan't it,
Cap'n?"

"Why, no, Judah. I'm always glad to see the doctor."

"Ye--es, you be!" with sarcasm. "Glad to see his back. Well, no use,
Cap'n, I've got to think up some notion to keep him from comin' here.
How would it do to run up a signal 'Small-pox aboard,' or somethin' like
that? Think that would keep him off?... No, he's a doctor, ain't he? All
he'd read out of that set of flags would be, 'More dollars. Come on in.'
Haw, haw! Well, I got to think up some way."

Judah's chatter kept his lodger from being too lonely. Mr. Cahoon talked
about everybody and everything, and when he was not talking he was
singing. He sang when he turned out in the morning to get breakfast, he
sang when he turned in at bedtime. He sang while working in the garden
repairing the damages done by the Fair Harbor hens. His repertoire was
extensive, embracing not only every conceivable variety of chantey and
sea song, but also an assortment of romantic ball