He did not believe half
that she said, but he had written to his uncle, who advised him to go
to Portland, and investigate the matter there. So unless Martie heard
to the contrary he would probably go north this week. Anyway, Martie
had better stay where she was, and not worry.

Not worry! It became a marvel to Martie that life could go on for any
one while her own future was so frightfully uncertain. She was going to
have a baby, and she was not married--that was the summary of the
situation. It was like something in a book, only worse than any book
that she had ever read. Sometimes she felt as if her brain were being
affected by the sheer horror of it. Sometimes, Sally noticed, Martie
fell into such deep brooding that she neither heard nor saw what went
on about her. Her mind was in a continual fever; she was exhausted with
fruitless hoping and unavailing endurance.

At the end of a hot, endless April day, into the darkness of Sally's
disordered bedroom, came life. A little hemstitched blanket had been
made ready for the baby; it seemed to Martie's frightened heart nothing
short of a miracle when Sally's crying daughter was actually wrapped in
it. Martie had travelled a long road since the placid spring afternoon
when they had made that blanket.

But the strain and fright were over now; Sally lay at peace, her eyes
shut in a white face. The tears dried on Martie's cheeks; Mrs. Hawkes
and Dr. Ben were even laughing as they consulted and worked together.
Martie took the baby down to the kitchen for her bath, and it seemed
strange to her that the dried peaches Sally had set on the stove that
morning were still placidly simmering in their saucepan.

For a day or two everything was unreal, the smoke of battle and the
shadow of death still hung over the little household. Gradually, the
air cleared. Joe and Martie ate the deluge of layer cakes and apple
pies--debated over details. Joe's mother came in to bathe the baby and
Sally did nothing but laugh and eat and sleep. She called her
first-born Elizabeth, for her mother; and sometimes the sisters
wondered if Ma and Lydia ever talked about the first baby, and ever
longed to see her first tiny charms.

The event shook Martie from her brooding, and brought her the first
real happiness she had known since the terrible morning of Golda's
appearance. She and Sally found the care of the baby only a delight,
and disputed for the privilege of bathing and dressing her.

One ep