Wolf removed the man’s hat and hung it carefully on a peg. He remembered afterwards the look of this hat, hanging side by side with his own, calm and a little supercilious, as hats in that position always are.

“Mattie,” he said, “do you want me to go and find a doctor?”

But at the word “doctor” the man in the chair found his voice.

“No⁠—no⁠—no! No doctor. I won’t have one. I won’t! Off! Off! Off!”

“What is it, Father dear?” cried Mattie, rising to her feet and pressing her hand against his forehead. “No, you don’t want a doctor. I’m here⁠—your Mattie. You’re better now, Father, aren’t you?”

Mr. Smith stared at her with a heavy confused stare.

“All thieves,” he muttered.