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 After the tray had been carried away, Dot began to grow restless. She wanted the baby. More visitors had arrived at Mrs. Lensky's bed. Her husband, a small young Jew already bald, was peeling an orange for her and bragging to the company about his Shirley.

The number of guests permitted in a ward at one time was restricted to twelve. But one bed was empty, only one visitor was with Dot, and the red-haired girl had none; so Mrs. Lensky was within the law.

Miss Parsons came into the room, and Mr. Lensky coaxed for Shirley to be brought in.

Miss Parsons looked at her watch. "Well," she said, "it's quarter to seven. I'll change her and bring her in a few minutes early."

Shirley came. So did the two other babies.

Dot grabbed hers with eager hands and laid it beside her. She exposed her breast, and Miss Parsons sponged it with boric, and together they pleaded with the baby to go after some dinner.

Dot had forgotten to watch Eddie's expression. She was busy with the baby. She didn't see him rise and bend over for a better look at the tiny red face and the squinty blue eyes. Gee whiz, that was his kid! Actually his kid. He wanted to hold it, wanted to look at its hands and feet, and wanted to talk to it. He wanted to hear it cry, wanted to see its head turn. He wanted to feel the hair that lay so soft and silky on its head. He wanted to hold its hand. Gee, it was a little beauty, too.

"He won't eat," Dot said.

Miss Parsons said, "He will tomorrow. You'll have milk then."

"How does he get along without eating?" asked Eddie, but Miss Parsons had joined the group around Shirley.

"Well, that's the baby," said Dot.