"That's all right, Ralph. Don't mention it," he added, feeling hypercritical and a little disgusted again. "Now I'll be right along. So good-bye."

"You tell Mary how it is, Jay. Don't want her thinking bad of me, ringing…"

"That's all right. She'll understand. Good-bye, Ralph."

"I wouldn't a rung you up, Jay if…"

"That's all right. Thanks for calling. Good-bye."

Ralph's voice was unsatisfied. "Well, good-bye," he said.

Wants babying, Jay realized. Not appreciated enough. He listened. The line was still open. The hell I will, he thought, and hung up. Of all the crybabies, he thought, and went on back to the bedroom.

"Gracious sake," said Mary, under her breath. "I thought he'd talk forever!"

"Oh, well," Jay said, "reckon he can't help it." He sat on the bed and felt for his socks.

"It is your father, Jay?"

"Yup," he said, pulling on one sock.

"Oh, you're going up," she said, suddenly realizing what he was doing. She put her hand on him. "Then it's very grave, Jay," she said very gently.

He fastened his garter and put his hand over hers. "Lord knows," he said. "I can't be sure enough of anything with Ralph, but I can't afford to take the risk."

"Of course not." Her hand moved to pat him; his hand moved on hers. "Has the doctor seen him?" she asked cautiously.

"He says he has a chance, Ralph says."

"That could mean so many things. It might be all right if you waited till morning. You might hear he was better, then. Not that I mean to…"

Because, to his shame, he had done the same kinds of wondering himself, he was now exasperated afresh. The thought even flashed across his mind, That's easy for you to say. He's not your father, and besides you've always looked down at him. But he drove this thought so well away that he thought ill of himself for having believed it, and said, "Sweetheart, I'd rather wait and see what we hear in the morning, just as much as you would. It may all be a false alarm. I know Ralph goes off his trolley easy. But we just can't afford to take that chance."