He would have missed the cue for his entrance had not George Mowbray pushed him forward, and it seemed to him that it was not his own voice but the voice of somebody else that uttered Bassanio’s speeches, while all the time he himself was away with Evereld, though his body mechanically went through the business of his part. Macneillie watched him with some anxiety, but before the play ended, the arrival of the ambulance and the necessity of seeing Ivy safely transferred to it drove all else from the manager’s mind. He refused to allow anyone but himself to take her to the hospital, feeling that she was under his charge, and troubled to remember that the poor child had not a relation in the world who could now befriend her. “Do your best to get well quickly, my dear,” he said in his kindly voice when he took leave of her. “And don’t fret as to the future. You shall come back to the company whenever you like.” Returning to the theatre he found the scene struck and all the house in darkness save for the light by the stage door. “Is Mr. Denmead still in his dressing-room?” he inquired. “No sir,” said the door-keeper. “He has been gone some time and Mr. and Mrs. Brinton with him.” Macneillie ran upstairs to speak a word to Ivy’s understudy as to the dresses needed later in the week, then he walked slowly back to Kingsmead Terrace, but although he rang repeatedly no one came to answer the door. He was just meditating a burglarious entrance by the kitchen window when at last he heard footsteps approaching and the latch was raised. Myra Brinton softly opened to him; her face was pale and anxious. “Oh, is it you!” she exclaimed. “I hoped it was the nurse. Tom has gone to try and get hold of one. Evereld’s child is born and the doctor seems terribly anxious about her.” Macneillie was a true Scotsman and seldom said much when he was moved. He stalked on into the sitting room and began to pace to and fro in silence. Evereld had grown almost like a daughter to him and the thought of her peril and of Ralph’s frightful anxiety brought a choking sensation to his throat. “What of the child?” he asked presently. “It is a boy,” said Myra. “Of course extremely small; they gave him to me in the next room and I have done what I could for him, the maidservant is seeing to him now, and the others are in with Evereld. Hark! there is someone coming downstairs.” Macneillie went out into the passage and encountered Ralph who looked as if years had passed over his head since they last met. “They want another doctor,” he said snatching his hat from the stand. “Give me the name and address and I will go,” said Macneillie. “You have not had your supper,” objected Ralph. “And, as it is, we are turning the whole house upside down for you.” “What matter!” said Macneillie. “Go back to Evereld, my boy, I will see to this for you.”