voice as he answered:

'She is safely through the worst of her trouble, but I am greatly
anxious yet. She is very weak. I fear anything that might upset
her.'

The Squire's voice came quick and strong:

'There must be no upset! And now tell me about my son?' He spoke
the last word half with pride, half bashfully.

'Your son is a daughter!' There was silence for so long that the
Doctor began to be anxious. Squire Norman sat quite still; his right
hand resting on the writing-table before him became clenched so hard
that the knuckles looked white and the veins red. After a long slow
breath he spoke:

'She, my daughter, is well?' The Doctor answered with cheerful
alacrity:

'Splendid!--I never saw a finer child in my life. She will be a
comfort and an honour to you!' The Squire spoke again:

'What does her mother think? I suppose she's very proud of her?'

'She does not know yet that it is a girl. I thought it better not to
let her know till I had told you.'

'Why?'