Árdís - 01.01.1953, Page 53

Ársrit Bandalags lúterskra kvenna
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horror. The infant’s head was covered with a yellowish-brown scab,
with tufts of red hair piercing through it.
“Don’t be startled,” Marge said.
Dr. Midfjord gave a chuckle at her consternation. “It’s only
seborrhea capiiis, cradle cap,” he explained. “Neither the epidermis
nor hair follicles are affected. It’ll clear up.” He looked fondly
down at the child. “She’ll blossom out with beautiful red hair. Just
wait and see.”
“She also has a rash,” Marge said, apologetically. “A diaper
rash. But with care, that will clear up.”
Grace felt her horror replaced by anger. “Who treated the
child like this?” she asked through stiff lips.
“It isn’t so much deliberate ill treatment,” the doctor told her,
“as wrong feeding, and neglect.” He stood looking at the baby a
long minute. “The pay for taking care of her,” he said, “is small,
but you’ll be paid for her food.” He glanced at his wrist watch.
“And if you need anything, don’t hesitate calling me. Day or night.”
Grace caught the love light reflected in his eyes as he turned
to the girl. “I’ve got to go.”
“Mike,” she said, “hadn’t you better warn her.”
“Huh?” A significant look passed between them. “It might not
happen again,” he told Grace, “but Cecilia May has had a few
convulsions. If she does take another, please note whether she falls
into a natural sleep, or a faint.”
When the door closed behind them, Grace’s heart began pump-
ing as if she was enclosed with something frightening. With fingers
tightly interlocked in her lap, she gazed at the child’s pinched face.
When the infant emitted a plaintive mewl, the sound sent a cold
tingle along Grace’s nerves.
“Is baby hungry?” she said, in what she hoped was a pleasant
voice, stepping to the divan.
She noticed a gleam brighten the child’s eyes, and a slight quirk
to the lips. Dropping to her knees, Grace talked fast, in a silly
manner, nodding her head up and down. This time the baby smiled
and gave a little gurgle of amusement.
“Oh, you darling,” the woman said, when she could trust her
voice, “to smile in spite of everything.”
With unshed tears stinging her eyes she went to the kitchen