no telling when she could get
another washing done and her impulse was to spring at him and snatch him
from harm's way, but she was trying to be more gentle and, drawing in a
deep breath, she spoke as quietly as she could command herself to do.

"Don't do that, Jack," she said, reaching out her hand to take him by the
arm.

Jack clutched the dish in sudden haste and raised it to his mouth, letting
a stream of the purple juice dribble from it to his own bulging front
before his mother could get her hand on him. Then, fearing a repetition of
the blow of the night before, the baby threw himself on the floor,
screaming loudly.

John came excitedly from the kitchen.

"What have you done to him now?" he asked, and without waiting to hear her
reply went out, flinging the door back with a crash.

It was nearly dark when Doctor Morgan came, but although he was anxious to
get back to his office he saw at once that he must stay with the suffering
girl.

In the morning he called John out to the buggy and had a little talk with
him.

"I feel, Hunter, as if I'd been a little to blame for this thing," he said
as he picked up his lines to start for home. "I thought you'd be able to
see that noise and worry were bad for her. I ought to have impressed the
gravity of her condition on you and warned you that she must not be
worried by that baby. You can see every muscle in her set hard when the
bed is jarred. That child's got to be kept out of there. Those things hurt
a woman in that condition like a knife."

"She's been awfully cross and cried about everything this week, but she
hasn't complained much--that is, of anything but a little backache," John
replied, fingering the whipstock of the doctor's buggy and not able to
connect the present serious illness with any real reason.

"Little backache!" Doctor Morgan exclaimed with exasperation. "I never
seem to be able to get you men to understand that noise hurts a woman
sometimes worse than if you'd hit her with a ball-bat. Hurts, mind! It
ain't imagination; it hurts, and will send a fever up in no time. Have I
made it clear to you?" he asked doubtfully.

"I guess you have," John said, relinquishing the whipstock. "She's been
awfully fretful, but I never thought of her being sick enough for this."

"Well," the old doctor said emphatically. "You've lost the child, and
You'll lose your wife if you don't look out. You get a girl in that
kitchen, and see to it that she tends things