"And this is the lock of the room she's in," continued the doctor.
"And you're afraid of her getting out and flying off again!" said the smith. "I will do it at once. There isn't much wrong with it, I daresay. I hope Mrs Macmichael is doing well, sir."
He took the lock, drew several screws from it, and then forced it open.
"It's nothing but the spring gone," he said, as he took out something and threw it away.
Then he took out several more pieces, and cleaned them all. Then he searched in a box till he found another spring, which he put in instead of the broken one, after snipping off a little bit with a pair of pincers. Then he put all the pieces in, put on the cover of it, gave something a few taps with a tiny hammer, replaced the screws, and said—
"Shall I come and put it on for you, sir?"
"No, no; I am up to that much," said Mr Macmichael. "I can easily manage that. Come, Willie. I'm much obliged to you for doing it at once. Good-night."
Then out they went into the snowstorm again, Willie holding fast by his father's hand.
"This is good," said his father. "Your mother will have a better day all to-morrow, and perhaps a longer sleep to-night for it. You see how easy it is to be both useful and kind sometimes. The smith did more for your mother in those few minutes than ten doctors could have done. Think of his great black fingers making a little more sleep and rest and warmth for her—and all in those few minutes!"
"Suppose he couldn't have done it," said Willie. "Do you think the watchmaker could?"