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 Bill came in with Dot's breakfast tray. A spoonful of Wheatena, a cup of weak coffee, and a slice of toast.

"Gee," said Dot, "what's the matter? Food scarce?"

"Wait till you see what the other ladies get," said Bill. "You're being treated mean just because you have the youngest baby."

Dot ate her breakfast, finding it difficult to manage in the reclining position upon which Miss Parsons insisted.

The two other patients had boards in back of them to bolster them up. But they had not been delivered of their children as recently as Dot.

The woman in the next bed was going to be allowed to sit in a chair that afternoon. The other woman had a baby six days old. Dot looked at the woman interestedly. The one to whom the privilege of sitting up was about to be given was a Jewess of nineteen or twenty. She had very black, very curly hair and shining brown eyes. Her nightgown sagged from the weight of lace upon it.

Across from her was the mother of the six-day-old son. She had a jagged mop of blazing, red-gold hair and very full red lips that curved in a pleasing smile. Dot did not know why, but the woman with the red-gold hair reminded her of the girl in the bright blue slicker who had admitted her to Eddie's rooming-house on that rainy night ten months before. Silly, of course, but the impression persisted.

The nurse came in with a baby in her arms. She walked to Dot's bed with it. "Isn't this a cute one?" she asked.

"Awfully cute," said Dot.

The Jewess smiled graciously at the applause and lifted her arms for the baby.

Miss Parsons left the baby with the mother and went out to fetch another.

"This one has dimples," said Miss Parsons, returning.

Dot admired it until it was claimed by the bright-haired woman.