“Oh, I’m sorry—” Dolly said.

“Aren’t thinking of quitting, are you?” Mrs. Fryt said. “Days like this are when we always lose the youngsters.”

“Oh, no, I—”

“For heaven’s sake, Cecilia,” Thelma snapped.

For a moment, uneasy silence reigned. No one knew what to make of such an outburst from mild, elegant Thelma.

“What’s the matter, Thelma?” Corinne said finally.

“I’m sorry, ladies,” Thelma sighed. “I suppose I’m tired. I was up half the night with George. He had a terrible cough.”

“Is he better today?” Jeannette asked.

“He seems so,” Thelma said. “I’ve finally convinced him to go to the doctor, though. You know men, they’ll never go of their own free will.”

“Isn’t that the truth,” Mrs. Fryt said.

“And we women will go at the slightest hint of trouble,” Corinne said. She laughed, clearly trying to take Thelma’s mind off her troubles. “Especially when Dr. Seguin was our doctor. He was so handsome! Of course, after he delivered all three of my children, that pretty much ruined the romance.”

“I suppose Judy and Dolly are the only ones here that Dr. Seguin hasn’t delivered of children,” Jeannette said, her nose twitching.

“Did he deliver Wilma Mickelson’s babies?” Dolly asked. If the children were born in the house, she wanted to know all the details.

“She never gets enough,” Judy muttered. Dolly glared at her. This week, Dolly had even more reason to dislike Judy than ever: During church on Sunday, she’d caught Judy making eyes at Byron. Dolly supposed Judy was desperate for a husband, but setting her cap for an already married man was despicable. Fortunately, Byron hadn’t noticed. It was perhaps the first time that Dolly had been pleased with his obtuseness.

“Yes,” Mrs. Fryt said, “Dr. Seguin delivered all four of Wilma’s children, and her two grandchildren, too. She had a hard time with her third, Harry. He came in the middle of a bad storm at the beginning of January. Jack couldn’t have been more than five years old, but they sent him out for Dr. Seguin, in the middle of that raging blizzard.”

“Didn’t they have a telephone?” Dolly asked.

“Oh, of course the Mickelsons did, but the line was dead that night, with the storm,” Mrs. Fryt explained. “I said later, why didn’t they just send Jack over to get my husband? He would have gone for the doctor. But no, that little boy ran downtown, and when he didn’t find the doctor at his office, he ran all the way to his house. Thank goodness Dr. Seguin was home. He dragged Jack up in the saddle with him and they rode right over, lickety-split. I heard that Harry didn’t come for hours, though. He might have been breech, I don’t remember.”

Dolly shuddered. Sometimes she was glad that she couldn’t seem to get pregnant.