"No, that's all right, only it shows that you're going to have a baby."
"Well, I guess I'd better stop going to dance halls and places then. People are probably making fun of me."
Eddie hadn't bargained for this. He swallowed a very hot piece of potato hastily.
"Don't be crazy," he said. "You're all right. I guess Mrs. Williams has been watching for it, and that's why she saw it. If a person didn't know—"
But Dot didn't answer. She was thinking of something else now. Something that she'd have to ask Dr. Stewart about. She'd been dancing quite a lot. So far there had been no sign of life in her baby. Were the two facts connected? Icy fingers of terror clutched at her heart. Why hadn't she told the doctor sooner about the many excursions to the Poppyland Dance Hall? Had she thought to put something over on him? Funny how all of a sudden a fear can come at you out of the darkness and shake you till you're cold and limp. She hadn't thought of it before, and now she was panicky and ill with the awfulness of it.
Darkness came over the room. The are light in the street streamed wanly through the window. Voices of neighbors calling to each other. A baby crying. Somebody's dishes being hastily despatched with many protesting rattles and clinks. In the purple-gray twilight the little sacque with its absurd blue bow was a narrow white streak, a shooting star. Was anybody ever going to have that silly little bow under his chin? In that minute, Dot knew that she couldn't bear it if her baby . . . if anything went wrong.
Eddie got up and lit the light. He looked at her carelessly. She was crying, but he preferred to say nothing about it. She cried a lot recently. It was because she didn't like what was going to happen, he thought. Yeh, it was
