The doctor bent down.

"Let me take him."

She was too weak to resist his wish, and she gave the child up. The doctor
handed him back to his nurse.

"You'd better put him back in his own bed."

"Very well, sir." The little boy, still sleeping, was taken away. His
mother sobbed now broken-heartedly.

"What will happen to him, poor child?"

The monthly nurse tried to quiet her, and presently, from exhaustion, the
crying ceased. The doctor walked to a table on the other side of the room,
upon which, under a towel, lay the body of a still-born child. He lifted
the towel and looked. He was hidden from the bed by a screen, but the
woman guessed what he was doing.

"Was it a girl or a boy?" she whispered to the nurse.

"Another boy."

The woman did not answer. In a moment the child's nurse came back. She
approached the bed.

"Master Philip never woke up," she said. There was a pause. Then the
doctor felt his patient's pulse once more.

"I don't think there's anything I can do just now," he said. "I'll call
again after breakfast."

"I'll show you out, sir," said the child's nurse.

They walked downstairs in silence. In the hall the doctor stopped.

"You've sent for Mrs. Carey's brother-in-law, haven't you?"

"Yes, sir."

"D'you know at what time he'll be here?"

"No, sir, I'm expecting a telegram."

"What about the little boy? I should think he'd be better out of the way."

"Miss Watkin said she'd take him, sir."

"Who's she?"

"She's his godmother, sir. D'you think Mrs. Carey will get over it, sir?"

The doctor shook his head.

II

It was a week later. Philip was sitting on the floor in the drawing-room
at Miss Watkin's house in Onslow gardens. He was an only child and used to
amusing himself. The room was filled with massive furniture, and on each
of the sofas were three big cushions. There was a cushion too in each
arm-chair. All these he had taken and, with the help of the gilt rout
chairs, light and easy to move, had made an elaborate cave in which he
could hide himself from the Red Indians who were lurking behind the
curtains. He put his ear to the floor and listened to the herd of
buffaloes that raced across the prairie. Presently, hearing the door open,
he held his breath so that he might not be discovered; but a violent hand
piled away a chair and the cushions fell down.

"You naughty boy, Miss Watkin WILL be cross with you."

"Hulloa, Emma!" he said.

The nurse bent down and kis