“ Aunt Mattie?” murmured Wolf, feeling as if he were struggling to catch two ropes, which, at the same time, dangled before him. “That is what the child called her.”

“The child?” It was his mother’s turn to look puzzled now.

“Little Olwen Smith.”

Mrs. Solent’s smile died away.

“It can’t be the same,” she said. “Unless Lorna’s child’s got married.”

“It’s the same, all right, Mother. It’s your man, all right. He was the hatter, wasn’t he?”

She nodded.