'To be sure. The youngest apprentice always does. It's not hard work.
He'll have the comfort of thinking he won't have to swallow them
himself. And he'll have the run of the pomfret cakes, and the conserve
of hips, and on Sundays he shall have a taste of tamarinds to reward
him for his weekly labour at pill-making.'

Major Coxe was not quite sure whether Mr. Gibson was not laughing at
him in his sleeve; but things were so far arranged, and the real
advantages were so great that he thought it was best to take no notice,
but even to submit to the indignity of pill-making. He was consoled for
all these rubs by Mr. Gibson's manner at last when the supreme moment
of final parting arrived. The doctor did not say much; but there was
something of real sympathy in his manner that spoke straight to the
father's heart, and an implied 'you have trusted me with your boy, and
I have accepted the trust in full,' in each of the last few words.

Mr. Gibson knew his business and human nature too well to distinguish
young Coxe by any overt marks of favouritism; but he could not help
showing the lad occasionally that he regarded him with especial
interest as the son of a friend. Besides this claim upon his regard,
there was something about the young man himself that pleased Mr Gibson.
He was rash and impulsive, apt to speak, hitting the nail on the head
sometimes with unconscious cleverness, at other times making gross and
startling blunders. Mr. Gibson used to tell him that his motto would
always be 'kill or cure,' and to this Mr. Coxe once made answer that he
thought it was the best motto a doctor could have; for if he could not
cure the patient, it was surely best to get him out of his misery
quietly, and at once. Mr. Wynne looked up in surprise, and observed
that he should be afraid that such putting out of misery might be