Edith Dalton eyed it curiously.
Aunt Jane shook her head reproachfully at the baby, still smiling a little. She looked significantly at Edith Dalton. "He's trying to get his thumb in," she said. "They won't let him do that in there." She nodded toward the other wing.
"He kind of knows, I reckon. He knows his Aunt Jane will let him do it—if he can." She watched him happily.
"There! he's done it!"
The woman glanced at the baby indifferently and then at Aunt Jane's face, and the softness crept out a little.
"You think a great deal of babies and children, don't you?" She said it almost jealously.
"Yes, I love 'em," said Aunt Jane. She rocked happily. "You didn't ever have any children, did you?"
"No."
Aunt Jane's face made no comment. She rocked a minute. "I reckon women always wants children.... Every woman wants 'em—even when she doesn't know.... She wants 'em—way in back somewhere; she kind o' misses 'em."