I will not pretend that the doctor loved his hat. "It's the price which I pay for my soul, this damned thing," he once explained to me. "I hate to have to take it out with me, but Democracy insists. Democracy has a sense of what is due to it. In Norfolk, you could wear what you liked—your mother's bonnet if you wanted to. But you couldn't think what you liked or love what you liked. Dammit, you couldn't even swear at what you liked. Here, you are at liberty to do what you jolly well please; but as to wearing what you please—why, that's another matter. The doctor is known by his hat. They look for the hat. They expect that. They pay for the hat. And being an honest sort of chap (at bottom), I give them what they pay for. This one cost me ten-and-sixpence."
Neither Ma Levinsky nor her rich relations would dare to bandy chaff with the doctor when he was the doctor—when he wore the hat. Even the leisured classes, airing their minds and matter as they propped up the fabric of the "African Chief," forbore to utter even a whisper of native pleasantry. Even the Jew-boys reserved the shafts of their wit for meaner quarry. The black hat awed them all.
I remember a certain Banking Day when I persuaded the doctor, cap and all, to enter a public-house. It was called by the name of the "Four Soldiers," and a board outside its windows proclaimed that Devonshire cyder could be had within. But when we got within we found that somebody had won some money at somebody else's expense, and that this event was being celebrated. And our advent was accordingly received with criticism and comment: wherefore we departed—quick.
But hardly had we arrived at the surgery when a messenger appeared—a rather anguished messenger, not very lucid. I answered his ring myself, and can therefore speak authoritatively.
"Dockeratome, young man?"
"Yes," I said.
"Telms wanted, quick. Ole Joe Black. Up the pole. Barmy. See? Murder, see? Telms wanted."
"Where?" I inquired.
"Never mind where," responded this helpful emissary. "Telms wanted.... Dockeratome?" he finally demanded, after a reflective pause.
I called the doctor down to him at that stage; and the doctor helped him to unlock his bosom. We found that old Joe Black and his complicated infirmities were to be found at the "Four Soldiers"—the very house of cheer which had so cheerfully exported us about five minutes ago.... I—I wilted. The doctor smiled. He also put his hat on.