my own little girl, she’s m — married and gone — gone to live in England. They will do it — the women will. Come, we’ll go see Adam.”

The doctor sprang up, brushed his hand across his eyes, and caught up a battered silk hat. He turned it about and looked at it ruefully, with a quizzical smile playing about the corners of his eyes. “Remember that hat?” he asked.

“Well do I remember it. You’ve driven many a mile in many a rainstorm by my side under that hat! When you’re done with it, leave it to me in your will. I have a fancy for it. Will you?”

“Here, take it — take it. I’m done with it. Mary scolds me every day about it. No p — peace in life because of it. Here’s