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 There was the sound of quick, important steps and the doctor's voice rapidly putting questions to the nurse. There followed a delay in which the patients in the reception room heard Dr. Simons holding forth to Miss Henderson on the delivery he had just accomplished uptown somewhere. Miss Henderson's voice was not in evidence now, but you knew she was looking surprised, sympathetic, and admiring at proper intervals.

The doctor rushed impressively through the reception room and into his office. He did not look at any of the people who were awaiting him, but you felt that this was just a little game he played and that really he had noted the number and identities of the patients.

Miss Henderson gave him time to rest for ten minutes or so; then she nodded brightly to the natty, little man. "You may go in, Mr. Clifford."

Mr. Clifford went in jauntily. Mr. Clifford came out properly squelched. The two women were attended to with neatness and dispatch. Dot's turn was next, but it appeared, from the hesitation on Miss Henderson's part, that she was a delicate subject with the doctor and could not be broached without preparation. Miss Henderson went in the office. When she came out she smiled at Dot but gave no signal. A few minutes later the signal came from the nurse. It was as though she had been instructed to count up to five hundred and then usher Dot into the presence of his Royal Nervousness.

Dot went in with slow and reluctant steps. Eddie remained in the reception room, pretending to read from one of the humorous weeklies.

Dot smiled at Dr. Simons when he looked at her. He returned her greeting with a somewhat absent cordiality.

"Well, how are you?" he asked.

"I'm feeling fine," she said, trying to keep a ring of defiance out of her voice. "Though I'm kind of worried."