Julia did not answer; she sat silent and sick.  And as Jim did not speak again, except to mutter “My God!” once or twice, they reached the house in silence, and separated with a brief “Good-night.”  Ellie was waiting for Julia, eager to hear what Miss Jane wore, and Miss Constance wore, and how “Miss Teddy” looked.

“I am absolutely done, Ellie,” said the mistress, when the filmy lace gown was back in its box, and she was comfortably settled on her pillows, “so don’t come in until I ring.”

“And I hope you’ll get a long sleep,” Ellie said approvingly, “you’ve got to take care of yourself now!”

Julia’s little daughter was born on a June day in the lovely Ross Valley house the Studdifords had taken for the summer.

They had moved into the house in April, because Julia’s hopes made a later move unwise, and, delighted to get into the sweet green country so early in the year, and to have the best of excuses for leading the quiet life she loved, she bloomed like a rose.  She was in splendid health and in continual good spirits; her exultant confidence indeed lasted until the very day of the baby’s birth.

The day was late, and the pretty nurse, Miss Wheaton, had been in the house for nearly two weeks before Julia herself came to her door, in the first pearl dawning to say, still laughingly, that the hour had come.  A swift, well—­ordered period of excitement ensued; the maids were silent, awed, efficient; Miss Wheaton authoritative, crisp, ready with technical terms; and Jim as nervous and upset as if he were absolutely ignorant of all things physiological, utterly dependent upon the skill and knowledge of the nurse, humbly obedient to her will.  The telephone rang and rang.  Julia, the centre of this whole thrilling drama, wandered about in her great plum-coloured silk dressing-gown, commenting cheerfully enough upon the various rapid changes that were being made in her room.  She picked up the little pink blanket that had been hung upon a white-enamelled clothes-horse, by the fire, and pressed it to her cheek.  But now and then she stopped walking, and put her hand out toward the back of a chair as if she needed support, and then an expression crossed her face that made Jim’s soul sicken within him:  an expression of fear and wonderment and childish surprise.  At nine o’clock Miss Toland came in, a little pale, but very cheerful and reassuring.

“I’m afraid—­my nerve—­will give out, Aunt Sanna!” Julia said, beginning her restless march again, after a hot quick kiss.

“Hear her!” said the nurse, with a laugh of bright scorn.  “Don’t talk any nonsense like that, Mrs. Studdiford.  Why, she’s the coolest of us all!”

“Oh, no—­I’m not—­oh, no—­I’m not!” Julia moaned.

“Your doctor says you’re doing splendidly, and that another two hours ought to see everything well over!” Miss Toland said, trying to keep the acute distress she felt out of her tone.