"Has she been talking the matter over with you?" Thayer asked, with sudden jealousy.
Bobby laughed scornfully.
"No need. I have eyes of my own, and I learned my Barbara Celarent in junior year."
Another block was passed in silence. Then Thayer asked,—
"Do you see Mrs. Lorimer often?"
"Every day or so. I drop in there when I can, for she's not going out much, and she needs to see more people."
"How is she?"
"I don't know how to tell you," Bobby answered, while a note of sadness crept into his voice. "She is giving her life to that child; and, unless you know the child, you can't imagine the wear and tear of such an existence. I don't know which would be worse, the watching for the intellect which never comes, or the waiting for the convulsions that do."
"What will be the end of it all?" Thayer broke out impetuously.
Bobby shook his head.