liberately and with the flat of his white hand patted the captain's rough cheek, patted it as though the captain were a child being petted or a puppy being teased.
"What the thunder do you mean?" roared the infuriated officer, "by calling? Mistake my calling?"
"Your profession," said Doctor Syn, calmly putting on his cloak and hat.
"What would you have me then?" cried the seaman.
"I wouldn't have you any other than what you are, sir," replied Doctor Syn, with his hand on the door latch—"a thoroughly entertaining and vastly amusing old seadog, mahogany as a dinner wagon, and loaded with so many fancies as to be creaking near the breaking point."
The captain was so taken aback with the extraordinary manner of the Doctor that he could only look and gasp. Doctor Syn, perfectly at ease, opened the door.
"I wonder?" he said in a low voice, almost tenderly, Jerry thought.
The captain, with a great effort, managed to ejaculate, "What?"
"Why your mother sent you to sea, for as an apothecary—an apothecary—aye, yes, indeed, what a magnificent analyzing apothecary the world has missed in you, sir." And to the captain's amazement and Jerry's astonishment the vicar went out, closing the door behind him.
