on the
threshold snored peacefully.

There was a rattle of 'rickshaw wheels below, the clash of an opening
door, a heavy step on the stairs, and Mrs. Delville entered to find Mrs.
Bent screaming for the Doctor as she ran round the room. Mrs. Hauksbee,
her hands to her ears, and her face buried in the chintz of a chair, was
quivering with pain at each cry from the bed, and murmuring, 'Thank God,
I never bore a child! Oh! thank God, I never bore a child!'

Mrs. Delville looked at the bed for an instant, took Mrs. Bent by the
shoulders, and said quietly, 'Get me some caustic. Be quick.'

The mother obeyed mechanically. Mrs. Delville had thrown herself down by
the side of the child and was opening its mouth.

'Oh, you're killing her!' cried Mrs. Bent. 'Where's the Doctor? Leave
her alone!'

Mrs. Delville made no reply for a minute, but busied herself with the
child.

'Now the caustic, and hold a lamp behind my shoulder. Will you do as you
are told? The acid-bottle, if you don't know what I mean,' she said.

A second time Mrs. Delville bent over the child. Mrs. Hauksbee, her face
still hidden, sobbed and shivered. One of the ayahs staggered sleepily
into the room, yawning: 'Doctor Sahib come.'

Mrs. Delville turned her head.

'You're only just in time,' she said. 'It was chokin' her when I came,
an' I've burnt it.'

'There was no sign of the membrane getting to the air-passages after the
last steaming. It was the general weakness I feared,' said the Doctor
half to himself, and he whispered as he looked, 'You've done what I
should have been afraid to do without consultation.'

'She was dyin',' said Mrs. Delville, under her breath. 'Can you do
anythin'? What a mercy it was I went to the dance!'

Mrs. Hauksbee raised her head.

'Is it all over?' she gasped. 'I'm useless I'm worse than useless! What
are you doing here?'

She stared at Mrs. Delville, and Mrs. Bent, realising for the first time
who was the Goddess from the Machine, stared also.

Then Mrs. Delville made explanation, putting on a dirty long glove and
smoothing a crumpled and ill-fitting ball-dress.

'I was at the dance, an' the Doctor was tellin' me about your baby bein'
so ill. So I came away early, an' your door was open, an' I I lost my
boy this way six months ago, an' I've been tryin' to forget it ever
since, an' I I I am very sorry for intrudin' an' anythin' that has
happened.'

Mrs. Bent was putting out the Doctor's eye with a lamp as he