The women glanced at the window with a hushed sort of sympathy.  A young woman, evidently soon to become a mother, looked pale and apprehensive.

“Will she get through?” she said timidly.

“Oh, don’t you fear, Sarah,” said one of the women, kindly enough.  “She will be all right.  Bless you, I’ve been through it five times myself, and I am none the worse.  And when it’s over she’ll be as comfortable as never was.  It seems worth it then.”

A man suddenly turned the corner of the street; he was dressed in a shabby overcoat with a bowler hat, and he carried a bag in his hand.  He came past us.  He looked a busy, overtried man, but he had a good-humoured air.  He nodded pleasantly to the women.  One said: 

“You are wanted badly in there, doctor.”

“Yes,” he said cheerfully, “I am making all the haste I can.  Where’s John?”

“Oh, he’s at work,” said the woman.  “He didn’t expect it to-day.  But he’s better out of the way:  he ’d be no good; he’d only be interfering and grumbling; but I’ll come across with you, and when it’s over, I’ll just run down and tell him.”

“That’s right,” said the doctor, “come along—­the nurse will be round in a minute; and I can make things easy meantime.”

Strange to say, it had hardly dawned upon me what was happening.  I turned to Amroth, who stood there smiling, but a little pale, his arm in mine; fresh and upright, with his slim and graceful limbs, his bright curled hair, a strange contrast to the slatternly women and the heavily-built doctor.

“So this,” he said, “is where I am to spend a few years; my new father is a hardworking man, I believe, perhaps a little given to drink but kind enough; and I daresay some of these children are my brothers and sisters.  A score of years or more to spend here, no doubt!  Well, it might be worse.  You will think of me while you can, and if you have the time, you may pay me a visit, though I don’t suppose I shall recognise you.”

“It seems rather dreadful to me,” said I, “I must confess!  Who would have thought that I should have forgotten my visions so soon?  Amroth, dear, I can’t bear this—­that you should suffer such a change.”

“Sentiment again, brother,” said Amroth.  “To me it is curious and interesting, even exciting.  Well, good-bye; my time is just up, I think.”

The doctor had gone into the house, and the cries died away.  A moment after a woman in the dress of a nurse came quickly along the street, knocked, opened the door, and went in.  I could see into the room, a poorly furnished one.  A girl sat nursing a baby by the fire, and looked very much frightened.  A little boy played in the corner.  A woman was bustling about, making some preparations for a meal.

“Let me do you the honours of my new establishment,” said Amroth with a smile.  “No, dear man, don’t go with me any farther.  We will part here, and when we meet again we shall have some new stories to tell.  Bless you.”  He took his hand from my arm, caught up my hand, kissed it, said, “There, that is for you,” and disappeared smiling into the house.