He dropped softly to the ground again. Taking off his shoes, and
putting them in his pockets, he ascended the two or three steps which
led to the half-open back garden door. Arrived in the passage, he could
just hear them talking upstairs. They were no doubt still absorbed in
their troubles; he had only the servant to dread. The splashing of
water in the kitchen informed him that she was safely occupied in
washing. Slowly and softly he opened the back parlour door, and stole
across the room to the nurse's chair.

One of her hands still rested on the child. The serious risk was the
risk of waking her, if he lost his presence of mind and hurried it!

He glanced at the American clock on the mantelpiece. The result
relieved him; it was not so late as he had feared. He knelt down, to
steady himself, as nearly as possible on a level with the nurse's
knees. By a hair's breadth at a time, he got both hands under the
child. By a hair's breadth at a time, he drew the child away from her;
leaving her hand resting on her lap by degrees so gradual that the
lightest sleeper could not have felt the change. That done (barring
accidents), all was done. Keeping the child resting easily on his left
arm, he had his right hand free to shut the door again. Arrived at the
garden steps, a slight change passed over the sleeping infant's
face--the delicate little creature shivered as it felt the full flow of
the open air. He softly laid over its face a corner of the woollen
shawl in which it was wrapped. The child reposed as quietly on his arm
as if it had still been on the nurse's lap.

In a minute more he was at the paling. The woman rose to receive him,
with the first smile that had crossed her face since they had left