“Why, my dear, a tablespoonful might—­”

“Don’t drive me frantic! . . .  There, there, there, my precious, my own; it’s nasty bitter stuff, but it’s good for Nelly—­good for mother’s precious darling; and it will make her well.  There, there, there, put the little head on mamma’s breast and go to sleep, and pretty soon—­oh, I know she can’t live till morning!  Mortimer, a tablespoonful every half-hour will—­Oh, the child needs belladonna, too; I know she does—­and aconite.  Get them, Mortimer.  Now do let me have my way.  You know nothing about these things.”

We now went to bed, placing the crib close to my wife’s pillow.  All this turmoil had worn upon me, and within two minutes I was something more than half asleep.  Mrs. McWilliams roused me: 

“Darling, is that register turned on?”

“No.”

“I thought as much.  Please turn it on at once.  This room is cold.”

I turned it on, and presently fell asleep again.  I was aroused once more: 

“Dearie, would you mind moving the crib to your side of the bed?  It is nearer the register.”

I moved it, but had a collision with the rug and woke up the child.  I dozed off once more, while my wife quieted the sufferer.  But in a little while these words came murmuring remotely through the fog of my drowsiness: 

“Mortimer, if we only had some goose grease—­will you ring?”

I climbed dreamily out, and stepped on a cat, which responded with a protest and would have got a convincing kick for it if a chair had not got it instead.

“Now, Mortimer, why do you want to turn up the gas and wake up the child again?”

“Because I want to see how much I am hurt, Caroline.”

“Well, look at the chair, too—­I have no doubt it is ruined.  Poor cat, suppose you had—­”

“Now I am not going to suppose anything about the cat.  It never would have occurred if Maria had been allowed to remain here and attend to these duties, which are in her line and are not in mine.”

“Now, Mortimer, I should think you would be ashamed to make a remark like that.  It is a pity if you cannot do the few little things I ask of you at such an awful time as this when our child—­”

“There, there, I will do anything you want.  But I can’t raise anybody with this bell.  They’re all gone to bed.  Where is the goose grease?”

“On the mantelpiece in the nursery.  If you’ll step there and speak to Maria—­”

I fetched the goose grease and went to sleep again.  Once more I was called: 

“Mortimer, I so hate to disturb you, but the room is still too cold for me to try to apply this stuff.  Would you mind lighting the fire?  It is all ready to touch a match to.”

I dragged myself out and lit the fire, and then sat down disconsolate.

“Mortimer, don’t sit there and catch your death of cold.  Come to bed.”