"She can't do it, work twelve hours a day now. You have to change the rules. By gar, if my wife die 'count of this, I goin' kill you, Jarth Rolan."
Jarth Rolan waltzed about nervously, biting his fingernails.
"No, we do not want her to have trouble. No. She will need proper rest. There is a meeting of the highest group council right now, concerning this. Others have the same problem. But yes, I will relieve her of work without waiting for the council's decision. Tell your wife to stay home, Laurent, until the baby is born."
Laurent pushed his luck. "And after that, too. A kid got to have a mother. I do the work for three, you let my wife take care of the family."
"Oh, this is a problem!" Jarth Rolan rubbed his fingers unhappily over his bald scalp. "Some of the other females are in the same condition. But it is like planting a crop—one labors hard at the beginning to reap a great harvest later. We will work this out."
The next day, fifteen articles amending the code arrived and were posted. Laurent read happily.
"Now," he said to Jean, "it is the law. You will stay home and have the baby."
"'And for such further period'," she read, "'as is considered necessary.' You sure told him off, Frenchy."
She squeezed his arm affectionately and his chest went out a little.
"And remember," she said, "this is the last one."