Her wet hand and her dry one moved rapidly together at her baby's clothes, unpinning the safety pins. Even in her haste she put them in her mouth mechanically, one after another. Once more she plunged her hand into the water. Warmer now, yes, almost warm enough. She put the round rubber stopper in the escape.
She lowered the stiff and naked little child into the tub, one hand behind his neck, the other held to shelter his face from the spray of the hot water which was pouring from the open tap.
Al stood at the door in bare feet, his trousers slipped on over his nightshirt.
"D'you want the doctor to come right away?" he asked.
"Do you mean to say you haven't gone yet?" she said piteously without turning her head as she knelt by the bathtub, "of course, right away—now, this instant."
The young fellow departed on the run for the janitor's telephone in the basement.
The water had become quite hot, but still the child did not relax. Georgia tried to undo one tiny fist with her forefinger, but she felt with agony of heart that it would not unclench easily. She sensed a touch on her shoulder, then saw another older hand put in the water behind the child's head.
"No, mother, you shan't," she said, "it is my baby, leave him to me."
"Shall I ask Father Hervey to come?" said Mrs. Talbot.
Georgia was too intent to answer.