shuddered. "Just the adorable age. Ought to be all pink cheeks,
dimples, and creases--and look at it!"

"I know, but wait. Give us time and we'll get some of those things
started." Doctor Fuller wagged his head by way of encouragement.

Sheila answered with a deprecatory shake. "This time I don't believe you.
That would be a miracle, and you can do about everything but miracles.
Honestly, it doesn't seem as if I could touch it; looks about a thousand
years old and just human enough to be horrible."

The old doctor eyed her askance. "Not going back on me, are you?"

"Of course I'm not, but there's no use in making believe it will be any
joy-game. I'll be hating it every minute I'm on the case."

"Hate it as much as you like, only stick to it. Hello there, bub!" This to
the brown atom, who was opening his eyes.

The eyes were large and brown and as soft and appealing as a baby seal's.
For a moment they looked with strange, wondering intensity at the two
figures bending over it, then with sudden doubling and undoubling of
fists, a frantic upheaval of brown legs, the atom opened volcanically and
poured forth scream after scream. It writhed, it clawed the air, it
looked every whit as horrible as Sheila had claimed.

"Going to run?" the old doctor asked, anxiously.

For answer Sheila bent down lower and picked up the writhing mass. With a
firm hand she braced it against her shoulder, patting it gently and
swaying her body rhythmically to the patting. "Some eyes and some temper!"
laughed Sheila. "Where's the mother?"

The screaming brought the corridor nurse to the door. "Where's the
mother?" Sheila repeated.

The corridor nurse pointed to the strewn luggage and gave a contemptuous
shrug. "Gone down to dinner looking like a bird of paradise. She said if
the baby cried I was to stir up some of that milk from that can, mix it
with water from that faucet, put it in that bottle, and feed it to him."
Words failed to convey the outraged disgust in her voice.

The milk indicated was condensed milk in a half-emptied can; the bottle
was the regulation kind for babies and as filthy as dirty glass could
look. Sheila and Doctor Fuller exchanged glances.

"Plenty of fight in the little beggar or he wouldn't be outlasting--" The
doctor swallowed the remainder of the sentence, cut short by a startled
look on Sheila's face.

The screams had stopped a minute before, and Sheila believed the atom had
dropped asleep. But instead of