Only Dr. Stewart was near, bending over her. Strong, silent, and patient. Once he smiled at her. A pain had closed in blackly upon her. She had to smile back at him. It would be failing him if she did not smile.
He knew she was in pain. He knew. He understood.
The nurses returned. The pains increased. Dot closed her eyes and prayed for ether or for a merciful, obliterating fainting spell. Dr. Stewart turned and rapped out an order for anesthetic. Miss Lambert leaped forward.
Dr. Stewart's eyes returned to Dot, and a loud cry escaped her lips. At the same moment Dr. Stewart said, "Here's your baby!"
She saw it arrive. Imagination perhaps. Fantastic certainly. The baby jumped into Dr. Stewart's hands, its little arms and legs crooked, its head erect and certain of direction. An easy jump. The jump of a frog. Light, fast, and accurate. A frog. The baby had jumped like a frog.
"What is it, Dr. Stewart?" This from Miss Harris, who had three dollars at stake.
"It's a little boy," said Dr. Stewart and he held it upside down as he handed it to the aimless young nurse who had at last something to do.
"Is it whole?" asked Dot. "Is my baby whole, Doctor?"
"He's a fine young man, Mrs. Collins. Now, get ready for another pain."
It came. The pain of afterbirth.
"She'll need two stitches, I guess."
"Here, drink this."
"He weighs six pounds."
"You were a brave one all right."
"You helped fine."
"Get Bill."
"I lost three dollars."
"A fine boy, Mrs. Collins."
