“It’s a shame I got you into all this.”
“It’s worked out all right and it wasn’t your fault at all. I insisted on coming. The baby’s healthy and I’m strong—and the experience! You’ve told me I lacked experience and that my life was cushioned. Well, this wasn’t cushioned.”
“God knows it wasn’t.”
The girls looked at each other and Cecily suddenly felt her eyes fill with tears.
“I’ll never forget your seeing me through, Fliss. Never.”
Fliss bent over her and kissed her. She had passed the stage of her first emotion and was ready to recognize what a lucky incident the whole thing had been for her. Mrs. Warner had said the same thing that Cecily had just said. She was established in that family and she knew it. Now that Cecily was comfortable, that she was out of peril and surrounded by American Beauty roses, down comforters and in her own silk nightdress, Fliss could afford to take account of stock and see how her own had risen.
“Good-by, Cecily. When you get back to town I’ll be around to see you.”
“As soon as I get back,” Cecily pledged her.
“Take care of my foster daughter.”
There was an interesting moment—as Fliss crossed to the improvised cradle and stood looking down at the baby, an expression on her face which could mask no ulterior motive. The queer little thing that she had seen come into the world, struggling, seemed to make her feel shaken.