Song of the Lark | Page 5

"Now, be still, I want to count." Dr. Archie reached for her hand and
took out his watch. When he put her hand back under the quilt he went
over to one of the win- dows--they were both tight shut--and lifted it a
little way. He reached up and ran his hand along the cold, un- papered
wall. "Keep under the covers; I'll come back to you in a moment," he
said, bending over the glass lamp with his thermometer. He winked at
her from the door before he shut it.
Peter Kronborg was sitting in his wife's room, holding the bundle
which contained his son. His air of cheerful

importance, his beard and glasses, even his shirt-sleeves, annoyed the
doctor. He beckoned Kronborg into the liv- ing-room and said
sternly:--
"You've got a very sick child in there. Why didn't you call me before?
It's pneumonia, and she must have been sick for several days. Put the
baby down somewhere, please, and help me make up the bed-lounge
here in the parlor. She's got to be in a warm room, and she's got to be
quiet. You must keep the other children out. Here, this thing opens up, I
see," swinging back the top of the car- pet lounge. "We can lift her
mattress and carry her in just as she is. I don't want to disturb her more
than is necessary."
Kronborg was all concern immediately. The two men took up the
mattress and carried the sick child into the parlor. "I'll have to go down

to my office to get some medicine, Kronborg. The drug store won't be
open. Keep the covers on her. I won't be gone long. Shake down the
stove and put on a little coal, but not too much; so it'll catch quickly, I
mean. Find an old sheet for me, and put it there to warm."
The doctor caught his coat and hurried out into the dark street. Nobody
was stirring yet, and the cold was bitter. He was tired and hungry and in
no mild humor. "The idea!" he muttered; "to be such an ass at his age,
about the seventh! And to feel no responsibility about the little girl.
Silly old goat! The baby would have got into the world somehow; they
always do. But a nice little girl like that --she's worth the whole litter.
Where she ever got it from--" He turned into the Duke Block and ran
up the stairs to his office.
Thea Kronborg, meanwhile, was wondering why she happened to be in
the parlor, where nobody but company --usually visiting
preachers--ever slept. She had mo- ments of stupor when she did not
see anything, and mo- ments of excitement when she felt that
something unusual and pleasant was about to happen, when she saw
every-

thing clearly in the red light from the isinglass sides of the hard-coal
burner--the nickel trimmings on the stove itself, the pictures on the wall,
which she thought very beautiful, the flowers on the Brussels carpet,
Czerny's "Daily Studies" which stood open on the upright piano. She
forgot, for the time being, all about the new baby.
When she heard the front door open, it occurred to her that the pleasant
thing which was going to happen was Dr. Archie himself. He came in
and warmed his hands at the stove. As he turned to her, she threw
herself wearily toward him, half out of her bed. She would have
tumbled to the floor had he not caught her. He gave her some medi-
cine and went to the kitchen for something he needed. She drowsed and
lost the sense of his being there. When she opened her eyes again, he
was kneeling before the stove, spreading something dark and sticky on
a white cloth, with a big spoon; batter, perhaps. Presently she felt him

taking off her nightgown. He wrapped the hot plaster about her chest.
There seemed to be straps which he pinned over her shoulders. Then he
took out a thread and needle and be- gan to sew her up in it. That, she
felt, was too strange; she must be dreaming anyhow, so she succumbed
to her drowsiness.
Thea had been moaning with every breath since the doctor came back,
but she did not know it. She did not realize that she was suffering pain.
When she was con- scious at all, she seemed to be separated from her
body; to be perched on top of the piano, or on the hanging lamp,
watching the doctor sew her up. It was perplexing and unsatisfactory,
like dreaming. She wished she could waken up and see what was going
on.
The doctor thanked God that he had persuaded Peter Kronborg to keep
out of the way.