, his beard and
glasses, even his shirt-sleeves, annoyed the doctor. He beckoned
Kronborg into the living-room and said sternly:--

"You've got a very sick child in there. Why didn't you call me before?
It's pneumonia, and she must have been sick for several days. Put the
baby down somewhere, please, and help me make up the bed-lounge here in
the parlor. She's got to be in a warm room, and she's got to be quiet.
You must keep the other children out. Here, this thing opens up, I see,"
swinging back the top of the carpet lounge. "We can lift her mattress
and carry her in just as she is. I don't want to disturb her more than
is necessary."

Kronborg was all concern immediately. The two men took up the mattress
and carried the sick child into the parlor. "I'll have to go down to my
office to get some medicine, Kronborg. The drug store won't be open.
Keep the covers on her. I won't be gone long. Shake down the stove and
put on a little coal, but not too much; so it'll catch quickly, I mean.
Find an old sheet for me, and put it there to warm."

The doctor caught his coat and hurried out into the dark street. Nobody
was stirring yet, and the cold was bitter. He was tired and hungry and
in no mild humor. "The idea!" he muttered; "to be such an ass at his
age, about the seventh! And to feel no responsibility about the little
girl. Silly old goat! The baby would have got into the world somehow;
they always do. But a nice little girl like that--she's worth the whole
litter. Where she ever got it from--" He turned into the Duke Block and
ran up the stairs to his office.

Thea Kronborg, meanwhile, was wondering why she happened to be in the
parlor, where nobody but company--usually visiting preachers--ever
slept. She had moments of stupor when she did not see anything, and
moments of excitement when she felt that something unusual and pleasant
was about to happen, when she saw everything clearly in the red light
from the isinglass sides of the hard-coal burner--the nickel trimmings
on the stove itself, the pictures on the wall, which she thought very
beautiful, the flowers on the Brussels carpet, Czerny's "Daily Studies"
which stood open on the upright piano. She forgot, for the time being,
all about the new baby.

When she heard the front door open, it occurred to her that the pleasant
thing which was going to happen was Dr. Archie himself. He came in and
warmed his hands at the stove. As he turned to her, she threw herself
w