The Song of the Lark

Скачать

“Which?” repeated the doctor.

“Brother or sister?”

He smiled and sat down on the edge of the bed. “Brother,” he said,

taking her hand. “Open.”

“Good. Brothers are better,” she murmured as he put the glass tube under

her tongue.

“Now, be still, I want to count.” Dr. Archie reached for her hand and

took out his watch. When he put her hand back under the quilt he went

over to one of the windows—they were both tight shut—and lifted it a

little way. He reached up and ran his hand along the cold, unpapered

wall. “Keep under the covers; I’ll come back to you in a moment,” he

said, bending over the glass lamp with his thermometer. He winked at her

from the door before he shut it.

Peter Kronborg was sitting in his wife’s room, holding the bundle which

contained his son. His air of cheerful importance, his beard and

glasses, even his shirt-sleeves, annoyed the doctor. He beckoned

Kronborg into the living-room and said sternly:—