"Yes," I said. "He lives only about a mile and a half away. He'll be here any minute."
"I wouldn't care," she said, "On'y I have my kids pretty sudden. It'll be that way for you too, honey, after you've had eleven, like me."
I couldn't think of an appropriate reply to that one. Grant looked at his watch anxiously, shook it and held it to his ear.
"Eleven!" I exclaimed after a moment. "You've had twelve, haven't you? At least that's what Eugene--"
"Sure, ma, you know, there's Ruthie, and Lyon, and Ernest, and--"
"Well, I guess I know my own kids' names!" she interrupted. "Yeah, that's right, twelve. So many I can't remember noways! My husband don't git home very often, but he sure gits home often enough! I musta forgot about the littlest one. Seems like I ain't got used to havin' her yit."
I couldn't keep my eyes off Mrs. Watkins' large, flapping red tongue when she talked. The crease down the center of it seemed to separate two smooth pieces of raw meat.
Suddenly her teeth clamped down on her lip again and she turned her face away from us, moaning.
I looked at Grant. He looked at his watch again. We were still standing, stiff and uneasy, beside the bed.
When Mrs. Watkins' pain had ebbed, she put one hand into her mouth, took out her false teeth, and stared at them.