Her husband nodded. He was sitting by the bedside holding her hand. “Towne’s a pretty big man.”
In a moment of vaingloriousness, Jane wanted to say to them, “What do you think of your ugly duckling? Mr. Towne wants her to be his wife.” But of course she didn’t. Not before Bob. She’d tell Judy, later, of course.
The nurse came in then, and Jane went with Bob and the babies to the dining-room.
Junior over his bread and milk was frankly critical. “I didn’t think you’d be so old. Mother said you’d play with me.”
“I can play splendid games, Junior.”
“Can you? What kind?”
“Well, there’s one about a pussy-cat. And I’m the big cat and you’re the little cat—and my name is Merrymaid.”
“What is the little cat’s name?”
“We’ll have to find one. We can’t just call him Kitty, can we?”
“Yes, we can. My name’s Kitty, and your name is Merrymaid, and—what do we do, Aunt Janey?”