From higher up, at the level of the hidden bed, came the regular plaintive respiration of Sarah Gailey. "You must take care of yourself better than this," said the doctor. "Perhaps this is a day when you ought to be resting." She answered, resigned. "No, it's not that. I believe I'm going to have a child. You must..." She stopped. "Oh," said the doctor, with discretion. "Is that it?" Strange, how the direct words would create a new situation! She had not told the doctor that she had been through the ceremony of marriage, and had been victimized. She had told him nothing but the central and final thought in her mind. And lo! the new situation was brought into being, and the doctor was accepting it! He was not emitting astounded 'buts--!' Her directness had made all possible 'buts' seem ridiculous and futile, and had made the expression of curiosity seem offensive. She lay on the floor impassive. She was no longer horrified by expectancy. "Well," said the doctor, "we must see. I think you can sit up now, can't you?" Three-quarters of an hour afterwards, she went into Sarah's room alone. She was aware of no emotion whatever. She merely desired, as a professional nurse might have desired, to see if Sarah slept. Sarah was not sleeping. She moaned, as she moaned continually when awake. Hilda bent over her trembling head whose right side pressed upon the pillow. "How queer," thought Hilda, "how awful, that she didn't even hear what I said to him! It will almost kill her when she does know." Sarah's eyes blinked. Without stirring, without shifting her horizontal, preoccupied gaze from the wall, she muttered peevishly: "What's that you were saying about going to have a child?" Startled, Hilda moved back a little from the bed. "The doctor says there's no doubt I am," Hilda answered coldly. "How queer!" Sarah said. "I quite thought--but of course a girl like you are couldn't be sure. I should like another biscuit. But I don't want the Osbornes--the others." She resumed her moaning. IV