‘I’ll just get her under, if you’ll see that she doesn’t move. If she kicks about there may be a lot more hæmorrhage.’
His wife took his place and he sprinkled a few drops of heavy liquid on to a wire mask covered with lint. A sweetish odour mingled with that of the lilac. It seemed to Abner that the room had suddenly become oppressively hot.
‘Now breathe deeply. Smell it in! It’s ever so nice!’ said the doctor. Gladys sniffed, then choked, and tried to push away the mask with her hands.
‘Hold her fingers, mother!’ said the doctor. Mary closed her eyes and took the child’s fingers in her own.
‘That’s better . . . that’s better.’ He sprinkled more chloroform on the lint. In another minute he raised the mask. Gladys was now breathing heavily; her face was suffused, and she puffed out her lips with each breath. The doctor handed over the mask to his wife. ‘Give her a drop now and then,’ he said, ‘and plenty of air as well. She’s just nicely under.’ He pushed back an eyelid with his finger to see that the pupillary reflex was active. ‘Nicely . . . nicely.’
He rose to his feet and changed places with his wife.
Again he placed his hands on the child’s thigh, but now the hands were no longer gentle agents of perception, but strong and ruthless weapons. His brown fingers grasped the limb firmly. The room swam before Abner’s eyes. He went down like a stone. Mary gave a cry of alarm.
‘He’s all right,’ said the doctor, with a glance over his shoulder. ‘These big strong fellows are always the most liable to faint over a job like this. Give me a woman, any day!’
When Abner came to his senses the limb was set. A long splint with a serrated lower end had been strapped to the child’s body from armpit to heel. Her face was still flushed, but she breathed as softly as though she were lying in a natural sleep. The doctor was washing his hands and preparing to set out again. He offered Abner a medicine glass full of cold water with a dash of brandy in it.
‘What’s owing, gaffer?’ Abner asked.