e doctor to Toft End. The
doctor was now in another, an inaccessible world. I dozed, and from my
doze I was roused by Jos Myatt going to the door on the stairs.

"Jos," said a voice. "It's a girl."

Then a silence.

I admit there was a flutter in my heart. Another soul, another formed
and unchangeable temperament, tumbled into the world! Whence?
Whither?... As for the quality of majesty--yes, if silver trumpets had
announced the advent, instead of a stout, aproned woman, the moment
could not have been more majestic in its sadness. I say "sadness," which
is the inevitable and sole effect of these eternal and banal questions,
"Whence? Whither?"

"Is her bad?" Jos whispered.

"Her's pretty bad," said the voice, but cheerily. "Bring me up another
scuttle o' coal."

When he returned to the parlour, after being again dismissed, I said to
him:

"Well, I congratulate you."

"I thank ye!" he said, and sat down. Presently I could hear him
muttering to himself, mildly: "Hell! Hell! Hell!"

I thought: "Stirling will not be very long now, and we can depart
home." I looked at my watch. It was a quarter to two. But Stirling did
not appear, nor was there any message from him or sign. I had to submit
to the predicament. As a faint chilliness from the window affected my
back I drew my overcoat up to my shoulders as a counterpane. Through a
gap between the red curtains of the window I could see a star blazing.
It passed behind the curtain with disconcerting rapidity. The universe
was swinging and whirling as usual.

VII

Sounds of knocking disturbed me. In the few seconds that elapsed before
I could realize just where I was and why I was there, the summoning
knocks were repeated. The early sun was shining through the red blind. I
sat up and straightened my hair, involuntarily composing my attitude so
that nobody who might enter the room should imagine that I had been
other than patiently wide-awake all night. The second door of the
parlour--that leading to the bar-room of the Foaming Quart--was open,
and I could see the bar itself, with shelves rising behind it and the
upright handles of a beer-engine at one end. Someone whom I could not
see was evidently unbolting and unlocking the principal entrance to the
inn. Then I heard the scraping of a creaky portal on the floor.

"Well, Jos lad!"

It was the voice of the little man, Charlie, who had spoken with Myatt
on the football field.

"Come in quick, Charlie. It'