belief, at any rate; but he had not been able somehow to tear himself
away from Colebrook.

"It was the shock of this disappointment, perhaps, coming soon after the
loss of his wife, that had driven him crazy on that point," the barber
suggested, with an air of great psychological insight. After a time the
old man abandoned the active search. His son had evidently gone away;
but he settled himself to wait. His son had been once at least in
Colebrook in preference to his native place. There must have been some
reason for it, he seemed to think, some very powerful inducement, that
would bring him back to Colebrook again.

"Ha, ha, ha! Why, of course, Colebrook. Where else? That's the only
place in the United Kingdom for your long-lost sons. So he sold up his
old home in Colchester, and down he comes here. Well, it's a craze,
like any other. Wouldn't catch me going crazy over any of my youngsters
clearing out. I've got eight of them at home." The barber was showing
off his strength of mind in the midst of a laughter that shook the
tap-room.

Strange, though, that sort of thing, he would confess, with the
frankness of a superior intelligence, seemed to be catching. His
establishment, for instance, was near the harbour, and whenever a
sailor-man came in for a hair-cut or a shave--if it was a strange face he
couldn't help thinking directly, "Suppose he's the son of old Hagberd!"
He laughed at himself for it. It was a strong craze. He could remember
the time when the whole town was full of it. But he had his hopes of the
old chap yet. He would cure him by a course of judicious chaffing. He
was watching the progress of the treatment. Next week--next month--next
year! When the old skipper had put off the date of that return till next