u know? You act to me
as though you trusted your washwoman's view of things more than your
husband's. And now what you want to do, anyhow, is to get some rest. You
hop into bed, little rabbit, and go to sleep. Don't wait for me; I've
got a lot of figuring to do."

When he went to bed, a couple of hours later, Lydia was lying quietly
with closed eyes, and he did not disturb her; but afterward he woke out
of a sound sleep and sat up with a sense that something was wrong. He
listened. There was not a sound in the room or in the house. Apparently
Lydia was not wakened by his startled movement. She lay in a profound
immobility.

But something about her very motionlessness struck a chill to his heart.
Women in her condition sometimes had seizures in the night, he had
heard. With a shaking hand, he struck a match and leaned over her. He
gave a loud, shocked exclamation to see that her eyes were open, steady
and fixed, like wide, dark pools. He threw the match away, and took her
in his arms with a fond murmur of endearments. "Why, poor little girl!
Do you lie awake and worry about what's to come?"

Lydia drew a painful breath. "Yes," she said; "I worry a great deal
about what's to come."

He kissed her gently, ardently, gently again. "You mustn't do that,
darling! You're all right! Melton said there wasn't one chance in a
thousand of anything but just the most temporary illness, without any
complications. It won't be so bad--it'll be soon over, and think what it
means to us--dearest--dearest--dearest!"

Lydia lay quiet in his arms. She had been still so long that he thought
her asleep, when she said, in a whisper: "I hope it won't be a girl!"

CHAPTER XIX

LYDIA'S NEW MOTTO

Lydia's two or three big receptions, of which her mother had spoken with
so casual a confidence, came off, while not exactly with nonchalant
ease, still, on the whole, creditably. It is true that Dr. Melton had
stormed at Lydia one sunny day in spring, finding her bent over her
desk, addressing invitations.

"It's April, child!" he cried, "April! The crocuses are out and the
violets are almost here--and, what is more important, your day of trial
gets closer with every tick of the clock. Come outdoors and take a walk
with me."

"Oh, I can't!" Lydia was aghast at the idea, looking at a mountain of
envelopes before her.

"Here! I'll help you finish those, and then we'll--"

"No, no, _no_!" In Lydia's negation was a touch of the irritati