"What of it?"
"Nothing. How helpless she was. I reckon all baby things are helpless." In lowered voice: "That baby upstairs now. It seems worse being a girl."
The doctor made no reply, but crouched by the fire.
"It's up to us what their lives shall be, eh? Queen or beggar maid."
The man of the house looked forlornly at his silent visitor. "Have a drink?" he asked suddenly. "I'll get you one. Julia fixed it mighty well getting the servants out of the way, but it don't make for hospitality."
Turning on him, the doctor raised his head and said, querulously: "Stop talking, can't you, man, and think. What are you going to do?"
What was he going to do? He, Judge Ogilvie, did not know what he was going to do. He looked helplessly into his friend's eyes.
Rising wearily the doctor went toward the door.
"You aren't going?" the man of the house cried in alarm.
"Yes, for a little. I've other work to do."