Time went swinging on, and by and by it came to be Tony Robeson, Junior's,
second Christmas day. He rode down to breakfast on his father's shoulder,
crowing loudly on a gorgeous brown and scarlet rooster, which he had found
on his Christmas tree the evening before. He had been put to bed
immediately thereafter and had gone to sleep with the rooster in his arms.
The fowl had a charmingly realistic crow, operated by a pneumatic device
upon which the baby had promptly learned to blow. He performed upon it
uninterruptedly throughout breakfast.
"See here, my son," said Anthony, hurriedly finishing his coffee, "let's
see if you can't appreciate some of your less voiceful toys. Here's a
rabbit with fine soft ears for you to pull. There's a train of cars. Let
me wind it for you. Your Grandfather Marcy must have expended several good
dollars on that--you want to show up an interest in it when he comes out
to see you to-day. And here's Auntie Dingley's pickaninny boy-doll--well,
I don't blame you for failing to embrace that. Auntie Dingley was born in
Massachusetts."
[Illustration: "Toys which can be relied upon to please a twenty
months old infant."]
The boy cast an indifferently polite eye on these gifts as their charms
were exhibited to him, and clasped the brown and scarlet rooster to his
breast. There were moments, half hours even, when he became sufficiently
diverted from his fowl to cease from making it crow, but at intervals
throughout the day the family were given to understand once for all that
it is not the most expensive and ornate toys which can be relied upon to
please a twenty-months-old infant. Even the automobile presented by Dr.
Roger Barnes, and warranted to go three times around the room without
stopping, was a tame affair to the recipient compared with the rooster's
shrill salute.
"Remember, Tony," Juliet had said, a month before Christmas, "you are not
to give me any expensive personal gift this year. I care for nothing half
so much as for making the home complete. If--if--you cared to give me
something toward the bathroom fund----"
"All right," said Anthony promptly, for he had learned by this time to
know his wife well. The bathroom fund was dear to her heart. The small
room at the front of the house upstairs, which had been left unfurnished,
had been temporarily fitted up as a bathroom by sundry ingenious devices
in the way of a tin bath and a hot and cold water connection, but a full
equipment of the best sort was to be put in as soon as practicable, and
there was a growing fund therefor.
On Christmas morning, nevertheless, in addition to a generous addition to
the fund, Juliet found beside her plate an exceedingly "personal gift" in
the shape of a little pearl-and-turquoise brooch of rare design, bearing
the stamp of a superior maker.
"Must I scold you?" she asked, smiling up at him as he stood beside her,
watching her face flush with pleasure.
"Kiss me, instead," he answered promptly. "And don't expect me to give up
making you now and then a real present, even though it has to be a small
one. It's too much fun."
Beside his own plate he found her gift, a set of histories he had long
wanted. It was a beautiful edition, and he would have looked reproachfully
at the giver if she had not forestalled him by running around the table to
say softly in his ear, both arms about his neck: "Just at Christmas time,
dearest, let me have my way."
The day was a happy one. Mr. Horatio Marcy and Mrs. Dingley arrived on the
morning train and stayed until evening. At the Christmas dinner Judith and
Wayne Carey and Dr. Roger Barnes were the additional guests, and Mary
McKaim was in the kitchen. Dinner over, everybody sat about the fireplace
talking, when Juliet came in to carry little Tony off to bed.
"Five minutes more," begged Dr. Barnes, on whose knee the child sat, a
willing captive to the arts of his entertainer. His eyes, bright with the
excitement of this great day, were fixed upon the doctor's face.
"And so"--Barnes continued the story he had begun--"the rooster climbed
right up the man's leg"--the toy obeyed his command and scaled the
eminence from the floor where it had been hiding behind a Noah's ark--"and
perched on his knee, and cried"--the rooster crowed lustily and little
Tony laughed ecstatically. "Then the rooster flew up on the man's shoulder
and flapped his wings, and all at once he fell right over backwards and
tumbled on his head on the floor.--Got to go to bed, Tony? Shall the
rooster go too? All right. May I carry him up for you, Juliet? Anthony's
deep in that discussion. Get on my back, old man--that's the way!"
Everybody looked after the two as the doctor mounted the stairs.
"That rooster has captivated the child more than all the mechanical toys
he has had to-day," said Mrs. Dingley.
"What a handsome fellow he is," said Carey, his eyes following little Tony
till he disappeared. "I never saw a healthier, happier child. How sturdy
he is on his legs--have you noticed? He's saying a good many words, too.
It was as good as a play to see him imitate that rooster."
Juliet's father and Mrs. Dingley left on an early evening train, and only
the three younger guests remained when Juliet came downstairs after
putting her boy to bed. She set about gathering up the toys scattered over
the floor, and Barnes helped her. In the midst of this labour, during
which they all made merry with some of the more elaborate mechanical
affairs, Juliet suddenly said "What's that?" and went to the bottom of the
stairs.
"Let me go," offered Anthony. "He's probably too excited to get to sleep
easily after all this dissipation.--Hullo!--he's crowing with the rooster
yet."
But Juliet went up, and he followed her, saying from the landing to his
guests, "Excuse me for a little. I'll get the boy quiet, and let his
mother come down. I've a fine talent for that sort of thing. That rooster
will have to be given some soothing syrup--he's too lively a fowl."
"I never saw a man fonder of his youngster than Tony," Carey observed.
"The child is a particularly fine specimen," the doctor said. "I think I
never saw a more ideal development than he shows."
He began to tell an incident in which little Tony had been involved, when
he was interrupted.
"Barnes!"--called Anthony's voice from the top of the stairs. "Come up
here, please."
There was something in the imperative quality of this summons which made
the doctor run up the stairs, two at a time. Judith and Wayne listened.
The rooster could still be heard crowing, faintly but distinctly.
"Perhaps he's grown too excited over it," Judith suggested. "They ought to
take it away."
Carey went to the bottom of the stairs and listened. There were rapid
movements overhead. The doctor's voice could be heard giving directions
through which sounded the steady crowing of the toy. "Hold him so--now
move him that way as I thump--now the other----"
Carey turned pale. "He's got that rooster in his throat," he said
solemnly. The rooster was nearly life-size, but the incongruity of this
suggestion did not strike him. Judith hastily rose from her chair and went
to him.
"Had we better go up?" he whispered.
"Heavens--no!" Judith clutched his arm. "We couldn't do any good. The
doctor's there. Such things make me ill. They ought not to have let him
have the toy to take to bed with him. How could it get into his throat?
Perhaps they are making it crow to divert him. Perhaps he's hurt himself
somehow."
"He's got the crow part of that thing in his throat," Carey persisted in
an anxious whisper. "The manufacturers ought to be prosecuted for making a
toy that will come apart like that."
"Don't stand there," protested his wife. "Maybe it's nothing. Come here
and sit down."
But Carey stood still. Presently Anthony came to the head of the stairs.
"Wayne," said he rapidly, "telephone Roger's office. Ask the trained
nurse, Miss Hughes, to send a messenger with the doctor's emergency
surgical case by the first train--he can catch the 9:40 if he's quick.
Tell Miss Hughes to follow as soon as she can get ready, prepared to stay
all night."
Then he disappeared. His voice had been steady and quiet, but his eyes had
showed his friend that the order was given under tension. Carey sprang to
the telephone, and his hand shook as he took down the receiver.
Upstairs Roger Barnes, in command, was giving cool, concise orders, his
eyes on his little patient. When he had despatched Juliet for various
things, including boiling water which she must get downstairs, he said to
Anthony in a conversational tone:
"It will probably not be safe to wait till my instruments get here, and
there's no surgeon near enough to call. I'm not going to take any chances
on this boy. If I see the necessity I'm going to get into that throat and
give him air. I shall want you and Carey to hold him. Juliet must be
downstairs."
Anthony nodded. He did not quite understand; but a few minutes later, when
Juliet had brought the boiling water, he suddenly perceived what his
friend meant.
"Alcohol, now, please," said the doctor. When Juliet had disappeared again
Barnes drew from his pocket a pearl-handled pocket-knife and tried its
blades. "It's a fortunate thing somebody made me a present of such a good
one to-day," he observed, "but it needs sharpening a bit. Have you an
oil-stone handy?"
With tightly shut lips Anthony watched the doctor put a bright edge on his
smallest blade, then, satisfied, drop the open knife into the water
bubbling over a spirit-lamp. Anthony turned his head away for an instant
from the struggling little figure on the bed. Barnes eyed him keenly.
"You're game, of course?" he said.
Anthony's eyes met his and flashed fire. "Don't you know me better than
that?"
"All right," and the young surgeon smiled. "But I've seen a medical man
himself go to pieces over his own child. This is a simple matter," he went
on lightly. "Luckily, boiling water is a more potent antiseptic than all
the drugs on the market--and alcohol's another. I shall want a new hairpin
or two--if Juliet has a wire one.--That the alcohol? Thank you. Now if
you've the hairpins, Juliet--ah--a silver one--all the better."
This also he dropped into the boiling water. Then he spoke very quietly to
Tony's mother, as she bent over her child, fighting for his breath.
"It's a bit tough to watch," he said, "but we'll have him all right
presently. Suppose you go and get his crib ready for him. You might fill
some hot-water bags and bottles and have things warm and comfortable."
The telephone-bell rang below. After a minute Carey dashed upstairs. He
looked into the room and spoke anxiously. "The messenger just missed the
9:40. He and the nurse will come on the 10:15."
"All right," said the doctor, as if the delay were of small consequence.
"We're going to want your help presently, Carey, I think. Just ask Mrs.
Carey to keep Mrs. Robeson with her for a few minutes, if she can."
Carey went down and gave his wife the message, then he hurried back and
stood waiting just outside the door. And all at once the summons came. In
a breath the doctor had changed his role. He spoke sharply:
"_Now, Robeson--now, Carey--we've waited up to the limit. Keep cool--hold
him like a rock--_"
* * * * *
Wayne Carey came down to his wife, ten minutes later, smiled tremulously,
sank into a chair, and fell to crying like a baby--softly, so that he
could not be heard.
"But Juliet says he'll be all right," murmured Judith unsteadily.
"Yes, yes----" Carey wiped his eyes and blew his nose. "I'm just a little
unnerved, that's all. Lord--and he's dropped off to sleep as quiet as a
lamb--with Barnes holding the gash in his throat open with a hairpin to
let the air in. When it comes to emergency surgery I tell you it's a lucky
thing to have an expert in the house. Completely worn out--the little
chap. When the nurse comes they'll get out the whistle and sew the place
up. She ought to be here--I'll go meet that train."
He sprang to his feet and hurried out of the house. Presently he was back,
followed by an erect young woman who wore a long coat over the uniform she
had not taken time to change. Carey carried the long black bag she had
brought with her.
By and by Anthony and Roger Barnes came down. The former was pale, but as
quietly composed as ever; the latter nonchalant, yet wearing that gleam of
satisfaction in his eye which is ever the badge of the successful
surgeon.
"Well, Mrs. Carey," said the doctor, smiling, "why not relax that tension
a bit? The youngster is right as a trivet."
"I suppose that's your idea of being right as a trivet," Judith retorted.
"In bed, with a trained nurse watching you, and a doctor staying all night
to make sure."
"Bless you--what better would you have? If it were any other boy the
doctor would have been home and in bed an hour ago, I assure you.
Carey--if you don't stop acting like a great fool I'll put you to bed
too."
For Carey was wringing Barnes' hand, and the tears were running unashamed
down his cheeks. "I gave him that rooster myself," he said, and choked.
Upstairs all was quiet. The little life was safe, rescued at the crucial
moment when interference became necessary, by the skill and daring which
do not hesitate to use the means at hand when the authorized tools can not
be had. Every precaution had been taken against harm from these same
unconventional means, and the doctor, when he left his patient in the
hands of his nurse, felt small anxiety for the ultimate outcome.
He said this very positively to the boy's father and mother, holding a
hand of each and bidding them go peacefully to sleep. He would have
slipped away then, but they would not let him go. There were no tears, no
fuss; but Juliet said, her eyes with their heavy shadows of past suspense
meeting his steadily, "Roger, nothing can ever tell you what I feel about
this," and Anthony, gripping his friend's hand with a grip of steel,
added: "We shall never thank the Lord enough for having you on hand, Roger
Barnes."
But when the young surgeon had gone, warm with pleasure over the service
he had done those he loved this night, the ones he had left behind found
their self-control had reached the ragged edge. Turning to her husband
Juliet flung herself into his arms, and met there the tenderest reception
she had ever known. So does a common anxiety knit hearts which had thought
they could be no tighter bound.
* * * * *
Judith and Wayne Carey, walking along silent streets in the early dawn of
the day after Christmas on their way to take their train home, had little
to say. Only once Judith ventured an observation to her heavy-eyed
companion:
"Surely, such a scene as you went through last night must diminish a
trifle that envy you are always possessed with, when you're at that
house."
But Wayne, staring up at the wintry sky, answered, more roughly than his
wife had ever heard him speak: "_No_--God knows I envy them even at a time
like this!"