"Sit down in that chair," said the doctor, "and behave yourself."
The frenzy left the man's eyes, and he quietly obeyed.
"I have told you often enough," said the doctor to the nurse, "to keep that cat out of this ward." He wiped the blood from his bare scalp. "Why are not my instructions carried out?"
"It was not my fault, sir," answered the nurse. "I do not know who let the cat in."
"Never let it happen again. Bring those chairs in."
"Wait, doctor," said the professor. "Can you send in a bench about a foot high, or, if not, a bucket or pail. I want to seat this man on something hard."
There was no such bench, he was informed, but a large pail came in with the chairs.
I had been studying the patient. He was a middle-sized, middle-aged man, with a careworn face and gray hair and beard, and he sat tremblingly in his chair, and looked pleadingly at the doctor.
"I could not help it, doctor," he said. "I hate them—they madden me."
"Never mind, Monson," answered the doctor kindly; "but we're going to try again to take it out of you. You must sit still and be hypnotized."