Myra Brinton softly opened to him; her face was pale and anxious.
“Oh, is it you!” she exclaimed. “I hoped it was the nurse. Tom has gone to try and get hold of one. Evereld’s child is born and the doctor seems terribly anxious about her.”
Macneillie was a true Scotsman and seldom said much when he was moved. He stalked on into the sitting room and began to pace to and fro in silence.
Evereld had grown almost like a daughter to him and the thought of her peril and of Ralph’s frightful anxiety brought a choking sensation to his throat.
“What of the child?” he asked presently.
“It is a boy,” said Myra. “Of course extremely small; they gave him to me in the next room and I have done what I could for him, the maidservant is seeing to him now, and the others are in with Evereld. Hark! there is someone coming downstairs.”
Macneillie went out into the passage and encountered Ralph who looked as if years had passed over his head since they last met.
“They want another doctor,” he said snatching his hat from the stand.
“Give me the name and address and I will go,” said Macneillie.
“You have not had your supper,” objected Ralph. “And, as it is, we are turning the whole house upside down for you.”