It was actually eleven o'clock when Edward, after spending hours of uncertainty, ran back to Pomona Terrace with a parcel for Dr. Harrison. "It has arrived at the very moment I required it," said the doctor, hurrying upstairs without waiting to give Edward a word of hope about his wife's condition beyond his satisfied comment on the arrival of the new instrument. On the husband left standing in the dim passage of the Gallaghers' lodging-house dawned the apprehension of God's mercy to him in directing his footsteps yesterday evening to where lived probably the only doctor in the neighborhood who would have a chance of saving that beloved woman's life. He fell upon his knees where he stood and prayed that God's mercy should be extended to the fulfillment of all he hoped. Then he went back to the kitchen. At last Mrs. Gallagher entered all smiles. "You may come up now," she told him. "All's well, praise be to the Holy Mother of God, and you've a girleen." "A what?" shouted old James Taylor from his chair by the fire. "'Tis you that's a great-grandfather, Mr. Taylor," she told the old man. "A' look now," chuckled old James. "They ought to put I in a show. 'Tis a state of life you can see in rams and bulls when you've a mind, but darn'ee, a real great-grandfather is summat to stare at even in London." Edward was kneeling beside Elizabeth before the old man had finished his sentence. The doctor left them together. "You haven't asked to look at baby," Elizabeth murmured reproachfully. She lifted the bedclothes for a moment, while Edward looked. "Yours," he murmured. "Ours," she corrected. "Ours, my dearest." "But it was you that suffered everything!" "But you were anxious about me, weren't you, my darling?" she tenderly asked. "Elizabeth! Elizabeth!" he cried. She knew how much he too had suffered, and because he did not speak of his emotions she was moved with an immense desire not to let her baby make her careless of her husband. She put out her hand to stroke his head. "I thought about you all the time," she whispered. "When the pain was worst I kept saying, 'Edward! Edward!' Nothing else. Only that, my darling." He drew her hands to his lips. "And what shall she be christened?" the mother asked. "I'd like her to be called Mary," she went on breathlessly. "You wouldn't think that a common name, would you? 'Mary Flower,' I think that's a pretty name." The doctor came in at this moment to suggest that Edward had stayed long enough for the present. The father leant over to kiss the eyes of that pale mother. "Well, have 'ee seen her?" demanded the great-grandfather when Edward came downstairs. "I suppose it is a girl all right?" "Mary," said Edward.