"I feel so—nauseated!" Julia complained. "So—uncertain!"
"Yes, I know," the nurse said soothingly, whisking out of the room. Miss Toland followed her into the hall.
"She's in great pain, she won't have much of this?" asked the older woman anxiously.
"She's not suffering much," the nurse said brightly, after a cautious glance at Julia's closed door. "This isn't much—yet. She's a little scared, that's all!"
Hating the nurse from the depth of her heart, Miss Toland went downstairs to see the doctor. Jim was sitting with a newspaper on the porch, trying to smoke. He jumped up nervously.
"Where's Doctor Lippincott?" demanded Miss Toland. "He ran in to San Rafael. Back directly."
"Ran in to San Rafael? And you let him! Why, I don't see how he dared, Jim!"
"Oh, I guess he knows his business, Aunt Sanna!" Jim said miserably. "Do you suppose I can go up for a while?"
"Yes, go," said Miss Toland. "I think she wants you, God bless her!"
But Julia wanted nobody and nothing. Jim's presence, his concerned voice and sympathetic eyes, only vaguely added to her distress. She was frightened now, terrified at the recurring paroxysms of pain; she recoiled from the breezy matter-of-factness of the doctor and the nurse; the elaborate preparations for the crisis offended every delicate instinct of her nature. She felt that the room was hot, and complained of the fire; but a few moments later her teeth chattered with a chill, and Miss Wheaton closed the wide windows through which a June breeze was wandering.