"Mommie Hat, ain't you glad?"
"Effie—Effie—"
"Mommie, what is it? What's the matter, darling? What?"
"I—it's just that I got cold, honey, sitting here waiting—the surprise and all. Run, honey, and get me a drink. Crack some ice, dearie, and then run up-stairs in the third floor back and see if there's some brandy up there. Be sure to look for—the brandy. I—I'll be all right."
"My poor, darling, cold mommie!"
She was off on the slim, quick feet, the screen door slamming and vibrating.
Then Mrs. Goldstone sprang up.
"You wouldn't dare! Such a baby—you wouldn't dare!"
"Dare what?"
"You can't have the child! You can't!"