"Something wrong, Doctor?"
"Oh, no. Everything is quite right, but you're tired of waiting, and so am I. We'll give you a thumping big dose of castor oil and see if that doesn't hasten action."
Dot smiled. Not a Caesarean operation, but castor oil. Maude McLaughlin would have said, "Exactly. Five million petty, sordid trials make up this period known as ten lunar months." But Maude was not there, and Dot saw the castor oil as a homely old friend who had arrived just in time to prevent disaster.
Dr. Stewart prescribed two ounces of castor oil to be taken at a single dose. Elixir of lacto pepsin mixed with it would make it more pleasant, he said. Dot meekly agreed to follow directions. The possible result would indeed be worth the effort.
She waited until Sunday to take it. Eddie would be home then, and in case success was in store for her she wanted him near.
At nine in the morning she took the cupful of thick, bloodlike fluid. Lacto pepsin was a familiar shade of red, and it created a horrible illusion. At twelve Dot was a trifle sick at her stomach. At two the baby twitched and rolled, fluttered and shivered. At three she got a bad pain. At four the baby was reasonably quiet and the pain had subsided. At five Dot was ravenously hungry, and the castor oil had been a failure.
The nerves of both Eddie and Dot were worn to a frazzle. They bickered and quarreled over nothing.
"I'm hungry," she said.
"Well, I'll go to the delicatessen store and get something. What do you want?"
"Anything."
"That's no answer. What do you feel like eating?"
"Oh, for Heaven's sake, Eddie, can't you pick something out? I don't feel like thinking about it."
