By February, the nursery which had belonged to John Chatterton Jr., twenty-four years before, had been redecorated and equipped with modern furnishings. There were a bassinet and an adorable ivory colored crib, with downy covers. They had purchased fluffy blankets with playful little kittens and long-eared bunnies printed on them. A pink and blue rattle hung on the end of the crib waiting to amuse the tiny guest, that had not yet arrived. There was a chest of drawers filled with the daintiest little white things. Laura Mae took each little hand embroidered dress and petticoat, each little nightgown and pinner out of the drawers, time and time again only to look at them with satisfaction and longing. Then she would fold them all neatly again and put them back into their places. How the times seemed to drag for her since she had given up shopping tours and theaters! The last two weeks seemed as long as months to her.

Mrs. Chatterton had soon seen to it that Laura Mae drank plenty of good rich milk and ate fresh fruits and vegetables. Every day, the girl took a long walk in the fresh air, under the trees that lined the sidewalks for blocks. The branches of the trees were holding up a load of newly fallen snow that glistened in the sun like so many millions of tiny crystals. It made her think of the snow-capped fence posts around the farms back in Oakdale. How lonesome she was to see them again and see if they still looked like bakers, with their white caps on, standing in a row. The snow crunched noisily beneath her feet as she walked along. She had to realize that she was no longer a gay young girl; she was a woman ready to enter into the field of motherhood. What a responsibility would be upon her inexperienced shoulders. She came into the house one morning with her cheeks rosy from being out in the frosty winter air. Mrs. Chatterton came toward her, smiling. "My dear," she said, "I have interesting news for you, but please do not be disappointed."

"What is the news?" Laura Mae asked eagerly.

"Could you guess?" the woman asked, her eyes aglow.

"I am afraid I could not. I have not the least idea of what it could be."

"Edith Randall is at the 'Home'! She is the proud mother of an eight-pound son."

"You don't say!" the girl exclaimed. "Well, the race is over and she won it. When did he arrive?"

"At seven-thirty this morning. Her mother just called because she knew that we would be anxious to know about Edith's baby."

"How is she feeling?"

"She got along just fine and they said she was sleeping quietly," Mrs. Chatterton explained.

Laura Mae bit her lip; she could have cried to think that her friend already had her baby in her arms and she still had to wait for her ow. How much longer would she have to wait in misery? Perhaps, it would happen today. But it did not. The next morning came and another long dreary day passed. It had seemed like a week to Laura Mae, but she would have to be patient and keep a cheerful attitude. It made it easier to wait when she looked on the bright side of life.

The third day after they had heard the news about Edith, Laura Mae felt so restless and homesick for her mother, she could not stand it any longer. She felt that she must have a talk with her mother and know that she was well. It would make it easier to face the ordeal that she must go through. She went to the phone stand and took up the phone.

"Long distance, please," she said to the operator who asked for a number.

"Long distance," came the reply after a short pause.

"I should like to speak to Mrs. Eli Porter at her home in Oakdale."

"Just a moment." There was a pause during which every nerve in Laura Mae's body was tense with anxiety. She trembled and suddenly felt weak. She wondered why she had not thought of calling her mother earlier on the phone.

"Hello," said the voice over the wire, "Oakdale Exchange reports that Eli Porters have had their phone taken out of their house."

"Thank you," Laura Mae said simply and hung up the receiver with a feeling of helplessness and despair. She sat thinking for a moment, then decided to call the Whitmer Mansion. Uncle Everett or Maria would know if her mother were well or not. She had been shocked when she read of the account of her aunt's death, but she had not had any news from home since then. She had watched the Oakdale news column each day but her mother's name never appeared in the papers. She lifted the phone again to ask for "Long Distance," when a sudden sharp pain struck her, then everything turned black before her eyes, like the day she had helped her father saw the wood.

"Celia!" she called out in agony as she set the phone down limply. Celia came running. "What is the matter?" she asked in a frightened tone. Then Mrs. Chatterton came to Laura Mae and it was no time until she was in an ambulance with a small suitcase at her feet and Mrs. Chatterton sitting by her side. She was being rushed to the "Mother's Home," the best maternity hospital in the city. Dr. Wilford was notified to be ready. Then came hours of anxious waiting. Laura Mae was taken up in an elevator and put into a high, narrow hospital bed. She had never been in a large hospital before, everything was new and strange to her. The bed felt hard, without a bit of spring in it. Nurses bustled about with their stiffly starched white caps and aprons on them, doing things that Laura Mae had never seen done before. She was thankful Mrs. Chatterton was by her side. The nurses brought in a white cap and robe for the lovely lady and permitted her to remain in the patient's room, which was a very unusual favor.

Laura Mae bit her bottom lip and clenched her fist tightly in agony, trying hard to hold back the tears. "Heavenly Father," she prayed in silence, "Please help me to be brave. Dear Lord, ease this horrible pain for me." So, this was that it meant to be a mother! How good it felt to lay her feverish hand in Mrs. Chatterton's firm, cool one.

"Did you go through this when John came into the world?" she asked.

"Yes, dear girl, every mother goes through this. Edith Randall felt this way before yesterday, but you should see her now, so happy with her pretty baby boy, and she just feels fine."

"My own mother had three babies, but I never realized that she went through this for each of us. Oh, Mother, Mother, I wish you were here," she wailed in anguish as the tears rolled down her cheeks.

Nurses rushed in and out of the room. One with extra stripes on her cap held a watch in her hand. She gave a sharp order to one of the young nurses who left the room. Soon she returned with a narrow cot on wheels and pulled it in beside the bed in which Laura Mae lay.

"Can you move over to this?" the nurse asked, taking hold of her arm. She was then wheeled down the corridor and through a door that had the words, "Delivery Room" printed above it.

Mrs. Chatterton stayed by her side and held her hand. A nurse came closer and laid a damp white pad over Laura Mae's mouth and nose. "One, two, three," she counted as the girl fought for her breath and tried to slap the pad of the nurse's hand.

"I am going, going, going," she muttered weakly and the face of Emily Chatterton grew dimmer to her until she was out of sight.

There was no young husband with an anxious, perplexed face, pacing up and down the halls during all those long hours. So many cases had been like this since the War had been declared.

There was a weak little cry in the delivery room and Dr. Wilford held a tiny human in his arms, while a nurse put medicine in its eyes. By the time the baby had been tagged and weighted, Laura Mae was awake.

"I feel better now," she said as she rubbed her hand across her forehead. "How much longer will I have to wait?"

The nurse smiled down at her and said, "Why your baby is already here. You have a fine, curly-haired daughter. She weighed nearly eight pounds."

"Oh, I am glad it is here," she said languidly, then turned to Mrs. Chatterton. "Will you please send word to my mother? She is Mrs. Clara Porter in Oakdale."

"Yes, dear, I will. You are tired now and must rest. Try and go to sleep; the doctor ordered the nurse to keep you in here for an hour before they take you back to your own room." Mrs. Chatterton had been as loving as a mother to Laura Mae for more than six months, helping her and giving her advice and now the baby was here safely.

Laura Mae remembered Dr. Wilford, now as she caught a glimpse of him before the nurse put the stuffy white cloth over her face. She remembered his little white round cap and the gown that were both far from becoming to him. He looked so different dressed that way to the way she had seen him look in his office, where she had made several visits during the past months. During all that time, Laura Mae had secretly hoped her baby would be a boy and that he would grow up to be fine and handsome like Gene. If it were a girl, she might have to keep her promise to Mrs. Chatterton. They had told her that her baby was a girl, but of course, Gene would come and claim her and the baby when the war was over. She was so tired then her eyelids closed and she slept.