spattered more batter on the stove. He had been a
father only a month or so, but that was long enough
to learn many things about babies which he had
never known before. He knew, for instance, that
the baby wanted its bottle, and that Marie was going
to make him wait till feeding time by the clock.

"By heck, I wonder what would happen if that
darn clock was to stop!" he exclaimed savagely, when
his nerves would bear no more. "You'd let the kid
starve to death before you'd let your own brains tell
you what to do! Husky youngster like that -- feed-
ing 'im four ounces every four days -- or some simp
rule like that --" He lifted the cakes on to a plate
that held two messy-looking fried eggs whose yolks
had broken, set the plate on the cluttered table and
slid petulantly into a chair and began to eat. The
squeaking chair and the crying baby continued to
torment him. Furthermore, the cakes were doughy
in the middle.

"For gosh sake, Marie, give that kid his bottle!"
Bud exploded again. "Use the brains God gave
yuh -- such as they are! By heck, I'll stick that
darn book in the stove. Ain't yuh got any feelings

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