longed to throw them out of the apartment. They could joke about it. What did they know of the suspense, the worry, the discomfort, all borne through blinding hot days and nights of close, stifling darkness?
Eddie was no ally. He did not seem particularly anxious to have it over with. Probably because he didn't want the baby. Edna, who had been delivered of Floyd in the dead of winter, couldn't be expected to know what the summer meant to a woman whose body was hot and heavy. Only Dr. Stewart seemed to understand the torment of waiting.
"The baby is all ready to be born," he said. "It's just a stubborn little donkey sitting there waiting."
"Can you see him, Doctor?"
"No, but I can feel him."
"Is it a him, positively?"
Dr. Stewart laughed. He had nice teeth and a pleasant laugh. "The heartbeats suggest as much. But frankly, Mrs. Collins, they can't always be depended upon."
Well, maybe it was a silly question, but who wouldn't ask silly questions after days of waiting and the heat, the heat, the heat!
"I guess we'll have to do something about his stubbornness," said Dr. Stewart, thoughtfully.
"Do something?" echoed Dot.
"Yes, we're tired of waiting for him. We'll hurry him up a bit."
Dot grew alarmed. Something had gone wrong. The baby wasn't going to come in the natural way. She had heard of the dread Caesarean operation from Sue, but she had not the vaguest idea of its use. Was it going to happen to her?
She got a grip on herself and tried to speak as unconcernedly as Miss Henderson might speak if she were standing near the vanity table re-packing Dr. Stewart's bag.
