"I know; very good. I think she'll do very nicely. If anything goes the least wrong I'll let you know. Now stay quiet in there."
And he shut the door, and she heard his step move softly over the next room floor, so great was the silence; and she kneeled down and prayed as helpless people pray in awful peril; and more time passed, and more, slowly, very slowly. Oh, would the dawn ever come, and the daylight again?
Voices and moans she heard from the room. Again she prayed on her knees to the throne of mercy, in the agony of her suspense, and now over the strange roofs spread the first faint gray of the coming dawn; and there came a silence in the room, and on a sudden was heard a new tiny voice crying.
"The little child!" cried old Anne Sheckleton, springing to her feet, with clasped hands, in the anguish of delight, and such a gush of tears—as she looked up, thanking God with her smiles—as comes only in such moments.
Margaret's clear voice faintly said something; Anne could not hear what.
"A boy," answered the cheery voice of Doctor Grimshaw.
"Oh! he'll be so glad!" answered the faint clear voice in a kind of rapture.
"Of course he will," replied the same cheery voice. And another question came, too low for old Anne Sheckleton's ears.
"A beautiful boy! as fine a fellow as you could desire to look at. Bring him here, nurse."
"Oh! the darling!" said the same faint voice. "I'm so happy."