He wrung their hands in turn.
"We can't thank you," John Lester said huskily.
"There's no need; I've had the most entirely successful case I've ever handled. I ought to thank you for giving me such a chance. And I'm more glad than I can say—he's no end of a boy!"
His steps died away on the gravel. Mrs. Lester looked up at her husband.
"Will you go and just look at him?" she said. "I can't—my silly knees won't do as they're told, and I can't risk making a fuss. Just look at him for me, and come and tell me every little thing about him!"
"Sure you're all right if I leave you?"
"Quite sure."
There was only the baby in sight. He stooped suddenly and kissed her; they clung together for a moment, without speaking. Then he went away across the lawn. Mrs. Lester sat still for a moment; then she stooped, still trembling, and picked up the baby. She was holding him silently, her face against his, when the other mother came back. Across the little face they looked at each other.
"They told me your boy has come through all right," the baby's mother said. "Oh, I'm so glad! And my little girl is better."
"I'm so glad, too, for you," Mrs. Lester said. Suddenly the tears she had not shed for three months began to rain down her face, but she did not hide them. She looked through the mist of them at the other mother—who, being a mother, was crying too.