"Quite all right," the doctor had said. "We've got to poke round you again a bit, Dick, old man, but we're not going to hurt you like we did last time—we'll put you to sleep instead. Just smell this—deep breaths, now." Something light had been slipped over his face; he had felt the doctor's hand over his, holding it in a firm, comforting clasp, while a sudden roaring filled his ears, and the world slipped away.
That was an hour ago—an hour since a nurse had run hastily to Mrs. Lester to whisper, "He's taken the anæsthetic beautifully, and the doctor says you're not to worry." And since then minutes had been ages to the man and woman who waited for another messenger. They set themselves walks, at first, round a block of streets, once, twice; all the time with a listening ear for hurrying feet that might be sent to fetch them; and when they came back to the end of the quiet street they found themselves walking more and more quickly, straining to catch the first glimpse of the gate where, perhaps, someone might be standing, ready to beckon them to hasten. And at last they could keep away no longer. They came to the hospital and walked up and down a quiet path, that had seen many other people tramp in just such suspense as theirs.
Mrs. Lester gave in at last. There was a garden seat under a flaming mass of bougainvillea; she sank upon it suddenly, and hid her face in her hands, not weeping, but shuddering from head to foot with convulsive tremors. Her husband put his arm round her, holding her closely, almost welcoming any sign of emotion after long weeks of unnatural calm. She pulled herself together after a while.
"It won't do—he may need us at any moment," she said. "John, how long is it?"
"Nearly two hours. They can't be much longer, dear heart."
"I can't walk any more—my knees have turned stupid," she said. "If I had something to do—anything——"
A woman turned in at the gate near them pushing a perambulator, in which the baby cried angrily. They had seen her before; a young mother whose little girl was in the hospital recovering from pneumonia. She came to see her each morning, leaving the baby boy asleep in the garden. But this morning the boy was considering a tooth that would not come through; he declined to sleep, and woke the echoes with his protests at being left. The poor young mother stood rocking him, her face furrowed with perplexity.
"Ah, you naughty boy!" they heard her murmur. "How am I going to see Winnie?"
John Lester took a quick stride forward.
"Lend my wife your baby," he said. "We'll look after him."