"I washed the baby, of course--"

"I mean the eyes especially. The doctor didn't drop anything into them?"

"I don't think he considered it necessary."

"It's an important precaution," I replied; "there are always possibilities of infection."

"Possibly," said the other. "But you know, we did not expect this. Dr.

Overton was to be here in three or four days."

"Dr. Perrin is asleep?" I asked.

"Yes. He was up all last night."

"I think I will have to ask you to waken him," I said.

"Is it as serious as that?" she inquired, anxiously, having sensed some of the emotion I was trying to conceal.

"It might be very serious," I said. "I really ought to have a talk with the doctor."

13. The nurse went out, and I drew up a chair and sat by the crib, watching the infant go back to sleep. I was glad to be alone, to have a chance to get myself together. But suddenly I heard a rustle of skirts in the doorway behind me, and turned and saw a white-clad figure; an elderly gentlewoman, slender and fragile, grey-haired and rather pale, wearing a soft dressing-gown. Aunt Varina!

I rose. "This must be Mrs. Abbott," she said. Oh, these soft, caressing Southern voices, that cling to each syllable as a lover to a hand at parting.

She was a very prim and stately little lady, and I think she did not intend to shake hands; but I felt pretty certain that under her coating of formality, she was eager for a chance to rhapsodize. "Oh, what a lovely child!" I cried; and instantly she melted.

"You have seen our babe!" she exclaimed; and I could not help smiling. A few months ago, "the little stranger," and now "our babe"!

She bent over the cradle, with her dear old sentimental, romantic soul in her eyes. For a minute or two she quite forgot me; then, looking up, she murmured, "It is as wonderful to me as if it were my own!"

"All of us who love Sylvia feel that," I responded.

She rose, and suddenly remembering hospitality, asked me as to my present needs. Then she said, "I must go and see to sending some telegrams."

"Telegrams?" I inquired.

"Yes. Think what this news will mean to dear Douglas! And to Major Castleman!"

"You haven't informed them?"

"We couldn't send any smaller boat on account of the storm. We must telegraph Dr. Overton also, you understand."

"To tell him not to come?" I ventured. "But don't you think, Mrs. Tuis, that he may wish to come anyhow?"

"Why should he wish that?"

"I'm not sure, but--I think he might." How I longed for a little of Sylvia's skill in social lying! "Every newly-born infant ought to be examined by a specialist, you know; there may be a particular _regime,_ a diet for the mother--one cannot say."

"Dr. Perrin didn't consider it necessary."

"I am going to have a talk with Dr. Perrin at once," I said.

I saw a troubled look in her eyes. "You don't mean you think there's anything the matter?"

"No--no," I lied. "But I'm sure you ought to wait before you have the launch go. Please do."

"If you insist," she said. I read bewilderment in her manner, and just a touch of resentment. Was it not presumptuous of me, a stranger, and one--well, possibly not altogether a lady? She groped for words; and the ones that came were: "Dear Douglas must not be kept waiting."

I was too polite to offer the suggestion that "dear Douglas" might be finding ways to amuse himself. The next moment I heard steps approaching on the veranda, and turned to meet the nurse with the doctor.

14. "How do you do, Mrs. Abbott?" said Dr. Perrin. He was in his dressing-gown, and had a newly-awakened look. I started to apologize, but he replied, "It's pleasant to see a new face in our solitude. Two new faces!"

That was behaving well, I thought, for a man who had been routed out of sleep. I tried to meet his mood. "Dr. Perrin, Mrs. van Tuiver tells me that you object to amateur physicians. But perhaps you won't mind regarding me as a midwife. I have three children of my own, and I've had to help bring others into the world."

"All right," he smiled. "We'll consider you qualified. What is the matter?"

"I wanted to ask you about the child's eyes. It is a wise precaution to drop some nitrate of silver into them, to provide against possible infection."

I waited for my answer. "There have been no signs of any sort of infection in this case," he said, at last.

"Perhaps not. But it is not necessary to wait, in such a matter. You have not taken the precaution?"

"No, madam."

"You have some of the drug, of course?"

Again there was a pause. "No, madam, I fear that I have not."

I winced, involuntarily. I could not hide my distress. "Dr. Perrin," I exclaimed, "you came to attend a confinement case, and you omitted to provide something so essential!"

There was nothing left of the little man's affability now. "In the first place," he said, "I must remind you that I did not come to attend a confinement case. I came to look after Mrs. van Tuiver's condition up _to_ the time of confinement."

"But you knew there would always be the possibility of an accident!"

"Yes, to be sure."

"And you didn't have any nitrate of silver!"

"Madam," he said, stiffly, "there is no use for this drug except in one contingency."

"I know," I cried, "but it is an important precaution. It is the practice to use it in all maternity hospitals."

"Madam, I have visited hospitals, and I think I know something of what the practice is."

So there we were, at a deadlock. There was silence for a s.p.a.ce.

"Would you mind sending for the drug?" I asked, at last.