was
taken bad at six o'clock."

He hardly knew what he expected the doctor to do. Something very
energetic, certainly--to seize some drugs, perhaps, and rush excitedly
with him through the gaslit streets. Instead of that Dr. Miles threw
his umbrella into the rack, jerked off his hat with a somewhat peevish
gesture, and pushed Johnson back into the room.

"Let's see! You DID engage me, didn't you?" he asked in no very
cordial voice.

"Oh, yes, doctor, last November. Johnson the outfitter, you know, in
the New North Road."

"Yes, yes. It's a bit overdue," said the doctor, glancing at a list of
names in a note-book with a very shiny cover. "Well, how is she?"

"I don't----"

"Ah, of course, it's your first. You'll know more about it next time."

"Mrs. Peyton said it was time you were there, sir."

"My dear sir, there can be no very pressing hurry in a first case. We
shall have an all-night affair, I fancy. You can't get an engine to go
without coals, Mr. Johnson, and I have had nothing but a light lunch."

"We could have something cooked for you--something hot and a cup of
tea."

"Thank you, but I fancy my dinner is actually on the table. I can do
no good in the earlier stages. Go home and say that I am coming, and I
will be round immediately afterwards."

A sort of horror filled Robert Johnson as he gazed at this man who
could think about his dinner at such a moment. He had not imagination
enough to realise that the experience which seemed so appallingly
important to him, was the merest everyday matter of business to the
medical man who could not have lived for a year had he not, amid the
rush of work, remembered what was due to his own health. To Johnson he
seemed little better than a monster. His thoughts were bitter as he
sped back to his shop.

"You've taken your time," said his mother-in-law reproachfully, looking
down the stairs as he entered.

"I couldn't help it!" he gasped. "Is it over?"

"Over! She's got to be worse, poor dear, before she can be better.
Where's Dr. Miles!"

"He's coming after he's had dinner." The old woman was about to make
some reply, when, from the half-opened door behind a high whinnying
voice cried out for her. She ran back and closed the door, while
Johnson, sick at heart, turned into the shop. There he sent the lad
home and busied himself frantically in putting up shutters and turning
out boxes. When all was closed and finished he seated himself in