"Crazy Kid," Edna laughed, easily. "You have plenty. You go to shows and dances and you dress yourself up snappy for your evenings out, don't you? Well, there'll be no shows and dances with a wee one to mind, and the money'll go on him. So there you are. What are you going to name it?"
Dot shook her head slowly. Wee one. What a cute expression. How descriptive of a gurgling elfin little thing that clings warmly to you and searches for bright objects to fix a wavering, unsure glance upon. Wee one. Dot continued to shake her head. It was not so much a gesture of negation now as it was the action of a person whose mind is occupied with melancholy thoughts.
"It will never be born," she said.
A smile had appeared on Edna's face, such as a salesman wears when he has at length overridden a customer's prejudice against his article. Now at Dot's words the smile vanished. It was as though Edna realized for the first time, that Dot was deadly serious.
"But, Honey, what are you going to do?" she asked.
"I guess I'll have to have an operation."
Edna looked at Eddie. She was trying to figure how the land lay. Who was the birth-control advocate, Eddie or Dot? If it were Dot, all was well, but in the event of its being Eddie . . .
"Operations of that kind cost a lot of money," said Edna.
"Eddie can raise it," Dot replied. She was beginning to see that she alsowas having a tussle. There was not one good argument that she could find against having a baby. Edna would fight her into a corner. Her sole reason was Eddie's doleful air. And that reason she could not give. What would Edna think of a man who didn't want a child?
"Look, Dot, I'm not a gushy sort of person, but you
