Eh? The first, o' course. . . . But a long
labour's often the best.

_Miss Quiney_. There has not been a sound for hours.

_Mrs. Strongtharm_. She's brave. They say, too, that a man-child,
if he's a real strong one, will wait for daybreak; but that's old
women's notions, I shouldn't wonder.

_Miss Quiney_. A man-child? You think it will be?

_Mrs. Strongtharm_. (She exchanges a glance with Mrs. Josselin, who
has looked up suddenly and nods.) Certain.

_Mrs. Josselin_. Certain, certain! I wonder, now, what they'll call
him! After Sir Oliver, perhaps. Her own father's name was Michael.
In my own family--that's the Pocock's--the men were mostly Williams
and Georges. Called after the Kings of England.

_Mrs. Strongtharm (yawns)_. Oliver Cromwell was as good as any king,
and better. Leastways my mar says so. For my part, I don't bother
my head wi' these old matters.

_Miss Quiney (tentatively)_. Do you know, I was half hoping it would
be a girl, just like my darling. _(To herself)_ God forgive me, when
I think--

_Mrs. Strongtharm (interrupting the thought)_. _She_ won't be hoping
for a girl. You don't understand these things, beggin' your pardon,
ma'am.

_Miss Quiney (meekly)_. No.

_Mrs. Josselin_. You don't neither of you understand. How should
you?

_Mrs. Strongtharm (stung)_. I understand as well as a fool, I should
hope! _(She turns to Miss Quiney.)_ 'Twas a nat'ral wish in ye,
ma'am, that such a piece o' loveliness should bear just such another.
But wait a while; they're young and there's time. . . . My lady wants
a boy first, like every true woman that loves her lord.
There's pride an' wonder in it. All her life belike she's felt
herself weak an' shivered to think of battles, and now, lo an'
behold, she's the very gates o' strength with an army marchin' forth
to conquer the world. Ha'n't ye never caught your breath an' felt
the tears swellin' when ye saw a regiment swing up the street?

_Miss Quiney_. Ah! . . . Is it like that?

_Mrs. Strongtharm_. It's like all that, an' more. . . . An' though
I've wet my pillow afore now with envy of it, I thank the Lord for
givin' a barren woman the knowledge.

_A pause_.

_Mrs. Josselin (with a silly laugh)_. What wonderful patterns they
make in the carpets nowadays! Look at this one, now--runnin' in and
out so that the eye can't hardly follow it; and all for my lord's
dressing-room! Cost a hun