Alice's face in the doorway. None of them could look at her. Winnie met the face at last.
"Bobby's awake."
"Isn't that nice. Now I will see the dear baby."
"Yes, Mother. Come, Father." Winnie, with a high dreamy expression of conscious pain, followed Alice out.
The bedroom, dark, cluttered by too great an attempt at coziness, had grown a little shabby. The yellow shades were drawn under the lace curtains. The blue carpet showed here and there a warp of colorless cords. On the sofa the velvet and plush pillows were embroidered with mottos and flowers. There were a heavy bureau, an old-fashioned bed, and Bobby's crib. May slept in the nursery across the hall.
Bobby, his eyes still opaque with sleep, sat upright in bed, a dreamy look of disapprobation on his face.
Mrs. Price could say nothing for a moment, then, "How lovely! How lovely! What a beautiful healthy child!"
Winnie caught him in her arms.
Mrs. Farley moved forward, feebly shocked. "He's too heavy! Oh, you mustn't do that, Winnie!"