The short delusion is quite dispelled now. As plainly as she sees on her arm the old father, unimproved, Pleasant sees that everybody there will cut him when he recovers consciousness. “I’ll take him away ever so soon as I can,” thinks Pleasant with a sigh; “he’s best at home.”

Presently they all return, and wait for him to become conscious that they will all be glad to get rid of him. Some clothes are got together for him to wear, his own being saturated with water, and his present dress being composed of blankets.

Becoming more and more uncomfortable, as though the prevalent dislike were finding him out somewhere in his sleep and expressing itself to him, the patient at last opens his eyes wide, and is assisted by his daughter to sit up in bed.

“Well, Riderhood,” says the doctor, “how do you feel?”

He replies gruffly, “Nothing to boast on.” Having, in fact, returned to life in an uncommonly sulky state.