“There is but one other doctor in town who has performed the operation, so far as I know,” he declared, “and that is Dr. Miller.  If you can get him, he can save your child’s life.”

Carteret hesitated involuntarily.  All the incidents, all the arguments, of the occasion when he had refused to admit the colored doctor to his house, came up vividly before his memory.  He had acted in accordance with his lifelong beliefs, and had carried his point; but the present situation was different,—­this was a case of imperative necessity, and every other interest or consideration must give way before the imminence of his child’s peril.  That the doctor would refuse the call, he did not imagine:  it would be too great an honor for a negro to decline,—­unless some bitterness might have grown out of the proceedings of the afternoon.  That this doctor was a man of some education he knew; and he had been told that he was a man of fine feeling,—­for a negro,—­and might easily have taken to heart the day’s events.  Nevertheless, he could hardly refuse a professional call,—­professional ethics would require him to respond.  Carteret had no reason to suppose that Miller had ever learned of what had occurred at the house during Dr. Burns’s visit to Wellington.  The major himself had never mentioned the controversy, and no doubt the other gentlemen had been equally silent.

“I’ll go for him myself,” said Dr. Evans, noting Carteret’s hesitation and suspecting its cause.  “I can do nothing here alone, for a little while, and I may be able to bring the doctor back with me.  He likes a difficult operation.”

* * * * *

It seemed an age ere the young doctor returned, though it was really only a few minutes.  The nurse did what she could to relieve the child’s sufferings, which grew visibly more and more acute.  The mother, upon the other side of the bed, held one of the baby’s hands in her own, and controlled her feelings as best she might.  Carteret paced the floor anxiously, going every few seconds to the head of the stairs to listen for Evans’s footsteps on the piazza without.  At last the welcome sound was audible, and a few strides took him to the door.

“Dr. Miller is at home, sir,” reported Evans, as he came in.  “He says that he was called to your house once before, by a third person who claimed authority to act, and that he was refused admittance.  He declares that he will not consider such a call unless it come from you personally.”

“That is true, quite true,” replied Carteret.  “His position is a just one.  I will go at once.  Will—­will—­my child live until I can get Miller here?”

“He can live for half an hour without an operation.  Beyond that I could give you little hope.”

Seizing his hat, Carteret dashed out of the yard and ran rapidly to Miller’s house; ordinarily a walk of six or seven minutes, Carteret covered it in three, and was almost out of breath when he rang the bell of Miller’s front door.