It cried nearly all last night, her little boy said, and
to-day has fever, and lies in a kind of stupor."
"That case must be seen to," I remarked, speaking to myself.
"You might let it go over until morning," suggested my wife. "At any
rate, I would let them send again before going. The child may be
better by this time."
"A call in time may save life here, Constance," I made answer; the
sense of duty growing stronger as the inner and outer man felt the
renovating effects of a good supper, and the brightness and warmth
of my pleasant home. "And life, you know, is a precious thing--even
a baby's life."
And I turned a meaning glance upon the calm, sweet face of our
latest born, as she lay sleeping in her cradle. That was enough. I
saw the tears spring instantly to the eyes of my wife.
"I have not a word to say. God forbid, that in the weakness of love
and care for you, dear husband, I should draw you aside from duty.
Yes--yes! The life of a baby is indeed a precious thing!"
And bending over the cradle, she left a kiss on the lips, and a tear
on the pure brow of our darling.
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