Dialogue of the Relations.

The Husband.

My dear wife, do you not think that our sister-in-law is going to die?

Elderly Lady.

No, I do not. She was always a nervous, fidgety woman—a woman who made overmuch of her ailments. All of us have to go through childbed, and few of us die of it. Why, I myself have been through it six times!

The Daughter.

But she screamed so dreadfully, mother dear? And she grew quite black in the face with it?

Elderly Lady.

It was not with screaming; it was a mere nervous flush. You do not understand these things. I used to turn quite black in the face, though I never uttered a single scream.

Not long ago the wife of an engineer of my acquaintance had a baby, and she never uttered a sound from start to finish.