It screamed till it was black in
the face; I got up and heated water and put the hot-water bottle on its
stomach, and it howled worse than ever and drew up its poor wee thin
legs. I was afraid I had burnt it but I don't believe I did. Then I
walked the floor with it although 'Morgan on Infants' says that should
never be done. I walked miles, and oh, I was so tired and discouraged
and mad--yes, I was. I could have shaken the creature if it had been
big enough to shake, but it wasn't. Father was out on a case, and mother
had had a headache and Susan is squiffy because when she and Morgan
differ I insist upon going by what Morgan says, so I was determined I
wouldn't call her unless I had to.
"Finally, Miss Oliver came in. She has rooms with Nan now, not me, all
because of the baby, and I am broken-hearted about it. I miss our long
talks after we went to bed, so much. It was the only time I ever had her
to myself. I hated to think the baby's yells had wakened her up, for she
has so much to bear now. Mr. Grant is at Valcartier, too, and Miss
Oliver feels it dreadfully, though she is splendid about it. She thinks
he will never come back and her eyes just break my heart--they are so
tragic. She said it wasn't the baby that woke her--she hadn't been able
to sleep because the Germans are so near Paris; she took the little
wretch and laid it flat on its stomach across her knee and thumped its
back gently a few times, and it stopped shrieking and went right off to
sleep and slept like a lamb the rest of the night.
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