“Both living; it’s all right, I think.”
Soames stood quite still, covering his eyes.
“I congratulate you,” he heard the doctor say; “it was touch and go.”
Soames let fall the hand which was covering his face.
“Thanks,” he said; “thanks very much. What is it?”
“Daughter—luckily; a son would have killed her—the head.”
A daughter!
“The utmost care of both,” he hears the doctor say, “and we shall do. When does the mother come?”
“To-night, between nine and ten, I hope.”
“I’ll stay till then. Do you want to see them?”