"You'd better put him back in his own bed."
"Very well, sir."
The little boy, still sleeping, was taken away. His mother sobbed now broken-heartedly.
"What will happen to him, poor child?"
The monthly nurse tried to quiet her, and presently, from exhaustion, the crying ceased. The doctor walked to a table on the other side of the room, upon which, under a towel, lay the body of a still-born child. He lifted the towel and looked. He was hidden from the bed by a screen, but the woman guessed what he was doing.
"Was it a girl or a boy?" she whispered to the nurse.
"Another boy."
The woman did not answer. In a moment the child's nurse came back. She approached the bed.
"Master Philip never woke up," she said.
There was a pause. Then the doctor felt his patient's pulse once more.
"I don't think there's anything I can do just now," he said. "I'll call again after breakfast."
"I'll show you out, sir," said the child's nurse.
They walked downstairs in silence. In the hall the doctor stopped.
"You've sent for Mrs. Carey's brother-in-law, haven't you?"
"Yes, sir."
"D'you know at what time he'll be here?"
"No, sir, I'm expecting a telegram."
"What about the little boy? I should think he'd be better out of the way."
"Miss Watkin said she'd take him, sir."
"Who's she?"
"She's his godmother, sir. D'you think Mrs. Carey will get over it, sir?"
The doctor shook his head.
