Theo swallowed an indignant answer remembering Joseph's warning, but she thought, When—and if—I have a baby, I shall have all the doctors that can be got and the Alstons may whistle for their propriety.

'Don't look so worried, child,' said a weak voice from the bed. 'I'm sorry that my—my situation is as it is right now. It is quite unexpectedly early. I would not have chosen to greet you like this'. She smiled apologetically.

Theo started to reply, but the old negress interrupted. 'You'm early, Mistiss,'case you'm got two of dem in dere and dey's rarin' to git out. De loggerhead he call twice from de swamp las' night. Dat mean twins. Bimeby buckra see Maum Chloe say true. She know better den highfalutin po' white trash doctor.'

She darted a resentful look at Theo from her rheumy old eyes and hobbled over to her mistress. Mrs. Alston was tossing monotonously from side to side, no longer conscious of her visitors.

Theo, embarrassed and tom by pity, tried to signal to Maria. If they could do nothing, surely they should leave. But her sister-in-law had moved to the far corner of the shadowy room and was engaged in snuffing a guttering candle, meticulously collecting any small wax drippings which might make an untidy appearance.

How can she be so heartless! thought Theo angrily, and turned to go, when she was held motionless by a strange scene at the bedside.

Mrs. Alston cried out once, sharply, and the negress bent over her muttering. Neither patient nor midwife seemed aware of Theo's startled exclamation, while Maum Chloe drew a small object from within her dirty blouse, murmured to it, then placed it ceremoniously upon the sheet which covered Mrs. Alston's abdomen. She held it there with one skinny hand, and her head weaved back and forth in a snakelike motion. Her shriveled lips parted as she muttered a whispering chant—guttural syllables repeated over and over like the thumping of a hidden drum.

Theo's spine prickled. She peered at the object on the sheet, unwilling to believe that she could be seeing truly. It was a small crude doll made of dried mud. The chant stopped. The old negress cocked her head as though she were listening.

Mrs. Alston struggled up from the pillows. 'How much longer will it be, Maum Chloe?' she panted.

Maum Chloe thrust the doll back into her bosom.'Conjuh say not till fust cock-crow, Mistiss.'

The woman sank back on the bed with a sobbing sigh. 'Such a long time—I don't know if I can——'

'Sho yo' kin, Mistiss. Yo' jus' chaw on dis bit o' conjuh root. He gib yo' sleep'. She thrust a hand into a bag that dangled from her apron strings and fished out a twisted black root. Its pungent smell filled Theo's nostrils.

Mrs. Alston let the negress put it into her mouth and sucked on it feebly.