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           Alongtherearwallanoldmattresswaslaidontheground,andonthislayayounggirl,herfacepaleandstreakedwithbrowndirt,herhairmatted.TheeyesofallthreeturnedtoMacandJim.Theoldwomanlookedupforamomentandthendroppedhereyestothered-hotstove.Shescratchedthebackofonehandwiththenailsoftheother.

           Londonwalkedovertothemattressandkneeleddownbesideit.ThegirlpulledherfrightenedeyesfromMacandlookedatLondon.Hesaid,"Wegotadoctorherenow.Youdon’tneedtobescarednomore."

           Maclookeddownatherandwinked.Herfacewasstiffwithfright.TheboycameoverfromhiscornerandpawedMac’sshoulder."Shegonnabeallright,Doc?"

           "Sure,she’sO.K."

           Macturnedtotheoldwoman."Youamidwife?"

           Shescratchedthebacksofherwrinkledhandsandlookedvacantlyupathim,butshedidn’tanswer."Iaskedifyouwasamidwife?"hecried.

           "No—butI’vetookoneortwobabiesinmylife."

           Macreacheddownandpickeduponeofherhandsandheldthelightedcandleclosetoit.Thenailswerelongandbrokenanddirty,andthehandswerebluish-grey."You’vetooksomedeadones,then,"hesaid."Whatwasyougoin’touseforcloths?"

           Theoldwomanpointedtoapileofnewspapers."Lisaain’thadbuttwopains,"shewhined."Wegotpaperstocatchthemess."