--" She paused and shook her head,
looking perplexed.

"Well, do you want another cup now?"

"Yes, please. _No._"

Len, who had begun a step, rocked back on his heels. "Which, damn it?"

Her face got all swollen. "Oh, Len, I'm so mixed up," she said, and
began to tremble.

Len felt part of his irritation spilling over into protectiveness.
"What you need," he said firmly, "is a drink."

* * * * *

He climbed a stepladder to get at the top cabinet shelf which cached
their liquor when they had any. Small upstate towns and their school
boards being what they were, this was one of many necessary financial
precautions.

Inspecting the doleful few fingers of whisky in the bottle, Len swore
under his breath. They couldn't afford a decent supply of booze or new
clothes for Moira. The original idea had been for Len to teach for a
year while they saved enough money so that he could go back for his
master's degree. More lately, this proving unlikely, they had merely
been trying to put aside enough for summer school, and even that was
beginning to look like the wildest optimism.

High-school teachers without seniority weren't supposed to be married.

Or graduate physics students, for that matter.

He mixed two stiff highballs and carried them back into the living
room. "Here you are. Skoal."

"Ah," she said appreciatively. "That tastes--_Ugh_." She set the glass
down and stared at it with her mouth half open.

"What's the matter now?"

She turned her head carefully, as if she were afraid it would come
off. "Len, I don't know. _Mama._"

"That's the second time you've said that. What is this all--"

"Said what?"

"Mama. Look, kid, if you're--"

"I didn't." She appeared a little feverish.

"Sure you did," said Len reasonably. "Once when you were looking at
the baby book, and then again just now, after you said ugh to the
highball. Speaking of which--"

"_Mama drink milk_," said Moira, speaking with exaggerated clarity.

Moira hated milk.

Len swallowed half his highball, turned and went silently into the
kitchen.

When he came back with the milk, Moira looked at it as if it contained
a snake. "Len, I didn't say that."

"Okay."

"I didn't. I didn't say mama and I didn't say that about the milk."
Her voice quavered. "And I didn't laugh at you when you fell down."

Len tried to be patient. "It was somebody else."

"It _was_." She looked down at her gingham-covered bulge.