“No—no,” I lied. “But I’m sure you ought to wait before you have the launch go. Please do.”
“If you insist,” she said. I read bewilderment in her manner, and just a touch of resentment. Was it not presumptuous of me, a stranger, and one—well, possibly not altogether a lady? She groped for words; and the ones that came were: “Dear Douglas must not be kept waiting.”
I was too polite to offer the suggestion that “dear Douglas” might be finding ways to amuse himself. The next moment I heard steps approaching on the veranda, and turned to meet the nurse with the doctor.
14. “How do you do, Mrs. Abbott?” said Dr. Perrin. He was in his dressing-gown, and had a newly-awakened look. I started to apologize, but he replied, “It’s pleasant to see a new face in our solitude. Two new faces!”
That was behaving well, I thought, for a man who had been routed out of sleep. I tried to meet his mood. “Dr. Perrin, Mrs. van Tuiver tells me that you object to amateur physicians. But perhaps you won’t mind regarding me as a midwife. I have three children of my own, and I’ve had to help bring others into the world.”
“All right,” he smiled. “We’ll consider you qualified. What is the matter?”
“I wanted to ask you about the child’s eyes. It is a wise precaution to drop some nitrate of silver into them, to provide against possible infection.”
I waited for my answer. “There have been no signs of any sort of infection in this case,” he said, at last.
“Perhaps not. But it is not necessary to wait, in such a matter. You have not taken the precaution?”
“No, madam.”