“Great!” Cathy squealed. He was afraid if he stayed that he would make a fool of himself. “Ritter’s!” said Ramage to the driver, “Dean Street. John, I have something to say to you. "I don't think he would," acquiesced the carpenter. To preach a fine sermon every Sunday so that he would lose neither the art nor the impulse; and this child, in secret rebellion, taking it down in long hand during odd hours in the week! Preaching grandiloquently before a few score natives who understood little beyond the gestures, for the single purpose of warding off disintegration! It reminded the doctor of a stubborn retreat; from barricade to barricade, grimly fighting to keep the enemy at bay, that insidious enemy of the white man in the South Seas—inertia.
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