Miss Brown about the baby. She knew that at ten o'clock he would be brought to her. She wished that Dr. Stewart hadn't caused the one o'clock feeding to be stopped. He had meant well. He had meant to accustom the baby to sleeping through the night, but now she wished for the assurance that she might see him through the small, wee, dangerous hours.
Dot's plan to get in a nap was frustrated by guests arriving at the bed of the woman beside her. They were quiet people, but their oft-repeated condolences on their friend's misfortune annoyed Dot and kept her awake. Over and over they reminded the woman that she had dreamed for nine months of her baby, had suffered for him, and now she did not have him. And one of them was a man!
When they had gone Dot lay with clenched fists listening to the dry sobs that came from the other bed. She wanted to scream. She wanted to say words that God would hear.
Ten o'clock came and went. Dot's baby took no food. He fretted piteously. His little forehead was hot, and his lips were dust-dry. Once he opened his eyes, and she fancied he looked at her pleadingly.
After he had gone back to the nursery, Miss Brown made the women ready for sleep. The friendly dark closed in on Dot, and she sailed away on a ship of dreams to a beautiful land where the baby romped with healthy eagerness and Eddie rode him on his back and dumped him laughingly into a sand dune. She knew that any more such pleasant fancies would lull her to sleep. She brought her mind back to reality. She must stay awake. She must stay awake. She must . . .
Dot awakened with a start. The moonlight filled the room, making radiant the ugly enamel beds and the stiff white chairs. The two other women lay asleep like chill,
