The Nest Builder Part 29

"How long will it be, doctor?" he asked nervously.

"Feeling jumpy?" she replied. "Better let me give you a bromide, and try for a little sleep. Don't you worry--unless we have complications it will be over before morning."

"Before _morning_!" he groaned. "Doctor, you won't let her suffer--you will give her something?"

He was again rea.s.sured. "Certainly. But she has a magnificent physique, with muscles which have never been allowed to soften through tight clothing or lack of exercise. I expect an easy case. Here we are, I think." The swift little car stopped accurately at the gate, and the doctor, shutting off her power, was out in a moment, bag in hand. The nurse met them in the hall.

"Getting on nicely--an easy first stage," she reported. The two women disappeared upstairs, and Stefan was left alone to live through as best he could the most difficult hours that fall to the lot of civilized man.

Presently Miss McCullock came down to him with a powder, and advice from the doctor anent bed, but he would take neither the one nor the other.

"What a sot I should be," he thought, picturing himself lying drugged to slumber while Mary suffered.

By and by he ventured upstairs. Clouds of steam rose from the bathroom, brilliant light was everywhere, two white-swathed figures, scarcely recognizable, seemed to move with incredible speed amid a perfectly ordered chaos. All Mary's pretty paraphernalia were gone; white oil cloth covered every table, and was in its turn covered by innumerable objects sealed in stiff paper. Amid these alien surroundings Mary sat in her nightgown on the edge of the bed, her knees drawn up.

"h.e.l.lo, dearest," she called rather excitedly, "we're getting awfully busy." Then her face contracted. "Here comes another," she said cheerily, and gasped a little. On that Stefan fled, with a muttered "Call me if she wants me," to the nurse.

He wandered to the kitchen. There was a roaring fire, but the room was empty--even Lily had found work upstairs. For an hour more Stefan prowled--then he rang up the Farraday's house. After an interval James'

voice answered him.

"It's Byrd, Farraday," said Stefan. "No--" quickly--"everything's perfectly all right, perfectly, but it's going on. Could you come over?"

In fifteen minutes Farraday had dressed and was at the door, his great car gliding up silently beside the doctor's. As he walked in Stefan saw that his face was quite white.

"It was awfully good of you to come," he said.

"I'm so glad you asked me. My car is a sixty horsepower, if anything were needed." Farraday sat down, and lighted a pipe. Stefan delivered knowledge of the waiting machine upstairs, and then recommenced his prowl. Back and forth through the two living rooms he walked, lighting, smoking, or throwing away endless cigarettes. Farraday sat drawing at his pipe. Neither spoke. One o'clock struck, and two.

Presently they heard a loud growling sound, quite un-human, but with no quality of agony. It was merely as if some animal were making a supreme physical effort. In about two minutes this was repeated. Farraday's pipe dropped on the hearth, Stefan tore upstairs. "What is it?" he asked at the open door. Something large and white moved powerfully on the bed. At the foot bent the little doctor, her hands hidden, and at the head stood the nurse holding a small can. A heavy, sweet odor filled the room.

"It's all right," the doctor said rapidly. "Expulsive stage. She isn't suffering."

"h.e.l.lo, Stefan dear," said a small, rather high voice, which made him jump violently. Then he saw a face on the pillow, its eyes closed, and its nose and mouth covered with a wire cone. In a moment there came a gasp, the sheathed form drew tense, the nurse spilled a few drops from her can upon the cone, the growling recommenced and heightened to a crescendo. Stefan had an impression of tremendous physical life, but the human tone of the "h.e.l.lo, Stefan," was quite gone again.

He was backing shakily out when the doctor called to him.

"It will be born quite soon, now, Mr. Byrd," her cheery voice promised.

Trembling with relief, he stumbled downstairs. Farraday was standing rigid before the fireplace, his face quite expressionless.

"She's having ether--I don't think she's suffering. The doctor says quite soon, now," Stefan jerked out.

"I'm thankful," said Farraday, quietly.

He stooped and picked up his fallen pipe, but it took him a long time to refill it--particles of tobacco kept showering to the rug from his fingers. Stefan, with a new cigarette, resumed his prowl.

Midsummer dawn was breaking. The lamplight began to pale before the glimmer of the windows. A sleepy bird chirped, the room became mysterious.

There had been rapid steps overhead for some moments, and now the two men became aware that the tiger-like sounds had quite ceased. The steps overhead quieted. Farraday put out the lamp, and the blue light flooded the room.

A bird called loudly, and another answered it, high, repeatedly. The notes were right over their heads; they rose higher, insistent. They were not the notes of a bird. The nurse appeared at the door and looked at Stefan.

"Your son is born," she said.

Instantly to both men it was as if eerie bonds, drawn over-taut, had snapped, releasing them again to the physical world about them. The high mystery was over; life was human and kindly once again. Farraday dropped into his chair and held a hand across his eyes. Stefan threw both arms round Miss McCullock's shoulders and hugged her like a child.

"Oh, hurrah!" he cried, almost sobbing with relief. "Bless you, nurse.

Is she all right?"

"She's perfect--I've never seen finer condition. You can come up in a few minutes, the doctor says, and see her before she goes to sleep."

"There's nothing needed, nurse?" asked Farraday, rising.

"Nothing at all, thank you."

"Then I'll be getting home, Byrd," he said, offering his hand to Stefan.

"My warmest congratulations. Let me know if there's anything I can do."

Stefan shook the proffered hand with a deeper liking than he had yet felt for this silent man.

"I'm everlastingly grateful to you, Farraday, for helping me out, and Mary will be, too. I don't know how I could have stood it alone."

Stefan mounted the stairs tremblingly, to pause in amazement at the door of Mary's room. A second transformation had, as if by magic, taken place. The lights were out. The dawn smiled at the windows, through which a gentle breeze ruffled the curtains. Gone were all evidences of the night's tense drama; tables and chairs were empty; the room looked calm and s.p.a.cious.

On the bed Mary lay quiet, her form hardly outlined under the smooth coverlet. Half fearfully he let his eyes travel to the pillow, dreading he knew not what change. Instantly, relief overwhelmed him. Her face was radiant, her cheeks pink--she seemed to glow with a sublimated happiness. Only in her eyes lay any traces of the night--they were still heavy from the anaesthetic, but they shone lovingly on him, as though deep lights were behind them.

"Darling," she whispered, "we've got a little boy. Did you worry? It wasn't anything--only the most thrilling adventure that's ever happened to me."

He looked at her almost with awe--then, stooping, pressed his face to the pillow beside hers.

"Were they merciful to you, Beautiful?" he whispered back. Weakly, her hand found his head.

"Yes, darling, they were wonderful. I was never quite unconscious, yet it wasn't a bit bad--only as if I were in the hands of some prodigious force. They showed me the baby, too--just for a minute. I want to see him again now--with you."

Stefan looked up. Dr. Hillyard was in the doorway of the little room.

She nodded, and in a moment reappeared, carrying a small white bundle.

"Here he is," she said; "he weighs eight and a half pounds. You can both look at him for a moment, and then Mrs. Byrd must go to sleep." She put the bundle gently down beside Mary, whose head turned toward it.

Almost hidden in folds of flannel Stefan saw a tiny red face, its eyes closed, two microscopic fists doubled under its chin. It conveyed nothing to him except a sense of amazement.

"He's asleep," whispered Mary, "but I saw his eyes--they are blue. Isn't he pretty?" Her own eyes, soft with adoration, turned from her son to Stefan. Then they drooped, drowsily.

"She's falling off," said the doctor under her breath, recovering the baby. "They'll both sleep for several hours now. Lily is getting us some breakfast--wouldn't you like some, too, Mr. Byrd?"

Stefan felt grateful for her normal, cheery manner, and for Mary's sudden drowsiness; they seemed to cover what he felt to be a failure in himself. He had been unable to find one word to say about the baby.

At breakfast, served by the sleepy but beaming Lily, Stefan was dazed by the bearing of doctor and nurse. These two women, after a night spent in work of an intensity and scope beyond his powers to gage, appeared as fresh and normal as if they had just risen from sleep, while he, unshaved and rumpled, could barely control his racked nerves and heavy head, across which doctor and nurse discussed their case with animation.

"We are all going to bed, Mr. Byrd," said the doctor at last, noting his exhausted aspect. "I shall get two or, three hours' nap on the sofa before going back to town, and I hope you will take a thorough rest."