Molly made a move forward, but Robert clutched her arm. He, too, was pale and desperate.
“No, Molly!” he said. “Dr. Pinney told us definitely—”
“Bah!” cried Mrs. Champney, in a tone that amazed both of them. “Dr. Pinney, indeed!”
She opened the door of Bobbetty’s room, went in, snatched him out of his crib, and carried him off, past his speechless parents, and into her own room.
VI
Bobbetty’s hand was flung out and fell, soft and limp, across Mrs. Champney’s face. She opened her eyes. The dawn was stealing into the room, coming like music. One drowsy little bird was awake in the world, piping sweetly. The breeze came, fluttering the window curtain, and it seemed to her that she could hear the footsteps of the glorious sun coming up the sky. All creation waited for him—waited breathless, to break into a great chorus of ecstasy when he appeared.
Bobbetty was waking, too. His hard little head bumped against her shoulder. His toes moved softly, he scowled, his great black eyes opened, he looked sternly into her face, and then he smiled.
“Gramma!” he said contentedly, and sat up.
“We must be very quiet, not to wake mother,” said Mrs. Champney.
“Why?” asked Bobbetty.