"Pooh! Rudeness is good for that elderly young man," murmured Jacqueline, with an engaging smile in his direction.
But the elderly young man, standing at the door, did not notice. He was gazing at Mrs. Kildare questioningly.
There had come a groan from the inner room.
"What's that?" cried Jacqueline. She ran to investigate. "Oh! The poor thing! What's the matter with her?"
Benoix would have stopped her, but Kate said shortly, "Nonsense, Phil. My girls were born women. You ride for the doctor."
At dawn a faint, fierce whisper came from the inner room.
"Whar's my babby? What you-all doin' with my babby? You ain't goin' to take her away from me? No, no! She's mine, I tell you!"
Jacqueline hurried in to her with the tiny, whimpering bundle. "Of course she's yours, and the sweetest, fattest darling. Oh, Mag, how I envy you!" She kissed the other's cheek.
There was a third girl in the room, a dainty, pink and white little person who well deserved her pet-name of the "Apple Blossom." She looked up in quick distaste from the bandages her capable hands were preparing, and went out to her mother.
"Isn't it like Jacqueline? To sit outside all night with her fingers stuffed in her ears, because she couldn't stand the groaning, and then to—kiss the creature!"