I was too polite to offer the suggestion that “dear Douglas” might be finding ways to amuse himself.  The next moment I heard steps approaching on the veranda, and turned to meet the nurse with the doctor.

14.  “How do you do, Mrs. Abbott?” said Dr. Perrin.  He was in his dressing-gown, and had a newly-awakened look.  I started to apologize, but he replied, “It’s pleasant to see a new face in our solitude.  Two new faces!”

That was behaving well, I thought, for a man who had been routed out of sleep.  I tried to meet his mood.  “Dr. Perrin, Mrs. van Tuiver tells me that you object to amateur physicians.  But perhaps you won’t mind regarding me as a midwife.  I have three children of my own, and I’ve had to help bring others into the world.”

“All right,” he smiled.  “We’ll consider you qualified.  What is the matter?”

“I wanted to ask you about the child’s eyes.  It is a wise precaution to drop some nitrate of silver into them, to provide against possible infection.”

I waited for my answer.  “There have been no signs of any sort of infection in this case,” he said, at last.

“Perhaps not.  But it is not necessary to wait, in such a matter.  You have not taken the precaution?”

“No, madam.”

“You have some of the drug, of course?”

Again there was a pause.  “No, madam, I fear that I have not.”

I winced, involuntarily.  I could not hide my distress.  “Dr. Perrin,” I exclaimed, “you came to attend a confinement case, and you omitted to provide something so essential!”

There was nothing left of the little man’s affability now.  “In the first place,” he said, “I must remind you that I did not come to attend a confinement case.  I came to look after Mrs. van Tuiver’s condition up to the time of confinement.”

“But you knew there would always be the possibility of an accident!”

“Yes, to be sure.”

“And you didn’t have any nitrate of silver!”

“Madam,” he said, stiffly, “there is no use for this drug except in one contingency.”

“I know,” I cried, “but it is an important precaution.  It is the practice to use it in all maternity hospitals.”

“Madam, I have visited hospitals, and I think I know something of what the practice is.”

So there we were, at a deadlock.  There was silence for a space.

“Would you mind sending for the drug?” I asked, at last.

“I presume,” he said, with hauteur, “it will do no harm to have it on hand.”

I was aware of an elderly lady watching us, with consternation written upon every sentimental feature.  “Dr. Perrin,” I said, “if Mrs. Tuis will pardon me, I think I ought to speak with you alone.”  The nurse hastily withdrew; and I saw the elderly lady draw herself up with terrible dignity—­and then suddenly quail, and turn and follow the nurse.

I told the little man what I knew.  After he had had time to get over his consternation, he said that fortunately there did not seem to be any sign of trouble.