ole on, many little
packets of absurdly small white garments with frill work and ribbons
began to arrive among the big consignments of male necessities. And
then one evening, as Johnson was ticketing the scarfs in the shop, he
heard a bustle upstairs, and Mrs. Peyton came running down to say that
Lucy was bad and that she thought the doctor ought to be there without
delay.

It was not Robert Johnson's nature to hurry. He was prim and staid and
liked to do things in an orderly fashion. It was a quarter of a mile
from the corner of the New North Road where his shop stood to the
doctor's house in Bridport Place. There were no cabs in sight so he
set off upon foot, leaving the lad to mind the shop. At Bridport Place
he was told that the doctor had just gone to Harman Street to attend a
man in a fit. Johnson started off for Harman Street, losing a little
of his primness as he became more anxious. Two full cabs but no empty
ones passed him on the way. At Harman Street he learned that the
doctor had gone on to a case of measles, fortunately he had left the
address--69 Dunstan Road, at the other side of the Regent's Canal.
Robert's primness had vanished now as he thought of the women waiting
at home, and he began to run as hard as he could down the Kingsland
Road. Some way along he sprang into a cab which stood by the curb and
drove to Dunstan Road. The doctor had just left, and Robert Johnson
felt inclined to sit down upon the steps in despair.

Fortunately he had not sent the cab away, and he was soon back at
Bridport Place. Dr. Miles had not returned yet, but they were
expecting him every instant. Johnson waited, drumming his fingers on
his knees, in a high, dim lit room, the air of which was charged with a
faint, sickly smell of ether. The furniture was massive, and the books
in the shelves were sombre, and a squat black clock ticked mournfully
on the mantelpiece. It told him that it was half-past seven, and that
he had been gone an hour and a quarter. Whatever would the women think
of him! Every time that a distant door slammed he sprang from his
chair in a quiver of eagerness. His ears strained to catch the deep
notes of the doctor's voice. And then, suddenly, with a gush of joy he
heard a quick step outside, and the sharp click of the key in the lock.
In an instant he was out in the hall, before the doctor's foot was over
the threshold.

"If you please, doctor, I've come for you," he cried; "the wife