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Pregnancy."

  Moira had now decided that the baby was male, that his name wasLeonardo (not referring to Len, but to da Vinci), that he had informedher of these things along with a good many others, that he was keepingher from her favorite foods and making her eat things she detested,like liver and tripe, and that she had to read books of his choice allday long in order to keep him from kicking.

  It was miserably hot. With Commencement only two weeks away, Len'sstudents were torpid and galvanic by turns. Then there was the matterof his contract for next year, and the possible opening at Oster Highwhich would mean more money, and the Parent-Teachers thing tonight atwhich Superintendent Greer and his wife would be regally present.

  Moira was knee-deep in Volume I of _Der Untergang des Abendlandes_,moving her lips; an occasional guttural escaped her.

  Len cleared his throat. "Moy?"

  "--_und also des tragischen_--what in God's name does he mean bythat--? What, Len?"

  He made an irritated noise. "Why not try the English edition?"

  "Leo wants to learn German. What were you going to say?"

  Len closed his eyes for a moment. "About this PTA business--you sureyou want to go?"

  "Well, of course. It's pretty important, isn't it? Unless you think Ilook too sloppy--"

  "No. No, damn it! But are you feeling up to it?"

  There were faint violet crescents under Moira's eyes; she had beensleeping badly. "Sure," she said.

  "All right. And you'll go see the doctor tomorrow?"

  "I said I would."

  "And you won't say anything about Leo to Mrs. Greer or anybody?"

  * * * * *

  She looked slightly embarrassed. "Not till he's born, I think, don'tyou? It would be an awful hard thing to prove--even you wouldn't havebelieved me if you hadn't felt him kick."

  This experiment had not been repeated, though Len had asked oftenenough. All little Leo had wanted, Moira said, was to establishcommunication with his mother--he didn't seem to be interested in Lenat all. "Too young," she explained.

  And still--Len recalled the frogs his biology class had dissected lastsemester. One of them had had two hearts. _This disorderly cell growth ...like a cancer._ Unpredictable: extra fingers or toes or a double dose ofcortex?

  "And I'll burp like a lady, if at all," Moira assured him cheerfullyas they got ready to leave.

  * * * * *

  The room was empty, except for the ladies of the Committee, twonervously smiling male teachers and the impressive bulk ofSuperintendent Greer when the Conningtons arrived. Card-table legsskreeked on the bare floor; the air was heavy with wood polish andmusk.

  Greer advanced, beaming fixedly. "Well, isn't this nice? How are youyoung folks this warm evening?"

  "Oh, we thought we'd be earlier, Mr. Greer," said Moira with prettyvexation. She looked surprisingly schoolgirlish and chic; the lumpthat was Leo was hardly noticeable unless you caught her in profile."I'll go right now and help the ladies. There must be something I canstill do."

  "No, now, we won't hear of it. But I'll tell you what you can do--youcan go right over there and say hello to Mrs. Greer. I know she'sdying to sit down and have a good chat with you. Go ahead now, don'tworry about this husband of yours; I'll take care of him."

  Moira receded into a scattering of small shrieks of pleasure, at leasthalf of them arcing across a gap of mutual dislike.

  Greer, exhibiting perfect dentures, exhaled Listerine. His pink skinlooked not only scrubbed but disinfected; his gold-rimmed glassesbelonged in an optometrist's window, and his tropical suit hadobviously come straight from the cleaner's. It was impossible to thinkof Greer unshaven, Greer smoking a cigar, Greer with a smudge of axlegrease on his forehead, or Greer making love to his wife.

  "Well, sir, this weather--"

  "When I think of what this valley was like twenty years ago--"

  "At today's prices--"

  Len listened with growing admiration, putting in comments whererequired. He had never realized before that there were so manyabsolutely neutral topics of conversation.

  A few more people straggled in, raising the room temperature abouthalf a degree per capita. Greer did not perspire; he merely glowed.

  * * * * *

  Across the room, Moira was now seated chummily with Mrs. Greer, alarge-bosomed woman in an outrageously unfashionable hat. Moiraappeared to be telling a joke; Len knew perfectly well that it was aclean one, but he listened tensely, all the same, until he heard Mrs.Greer yelp with laughter. Her voice carried well: "Oh, that's_priceless_! Oh, dear, I _only_ hope I can remember it!"

  Len had resolutely not been thinking of ways to turn the conversationtoward the Oster vacancy. He stiffened again when he realized thatGreer had abruptly begun to talk shop. His heart began poundingabsurdly; Greer was asking highly pertinent questions in agood-humored but businesslike way--drawing Len out, and not evenbothering to be the slightest bit Machiavellian about it.

  Len answered candidly, except when he was certain that he knew whatthe Superintendent wanted to hear; then he lied like a Trojan.

  Mrs. Greer had conjured up a premature pot of tea and, oblivious ofthe stares of the thirsty teachers present, she and Moira were hoggingit, heads together, as if they were plotting the overthrow of theRepublic or exchanging recipes.

  Greer listened attentively to Len's final reply, which was deliveredwith as pious an air as if Len had been a Boy Scout swearing on theManual. But since the question had been "Do you plan to make teachingyour career?" there was not a word of truth in it.

  He then inspected his paunch and assumed a mild theatrical frown. Len,with that social sixth sense which is unmistakable when it operates,knew that his next words were going to be: "You may have heard thatOster High will be needing a new science teacher next fall...."

  At this point Moira made a noise like a seal.

  The ensuing silence was broken a moment later by a hearty scream,followed instantly by a clatter and a bone-shaking thud.

  Mrs. Greer was sitting on the floor, legs sprawled, hat over her eye.She appeared to be attempting to perform some sort of excessivelypagan dance.

  * * * * *

  "It was Leo," Moira incoherently told Len at home. "You know she'sEnglish--she said of course a cup of tea wouldn't hurt me, and sheinsisted I go ahead and drink it while it was hot, and I couldn't--"

  "No, no--wait," said Len in a controlled fury. "What--"

  "So I _drank_ some. And Leo kicked up and made me burp the burp I wassaving. And--"

  "Oh, Lord!"

  "--then he kicked the teacup out of my hand into her lap, and I wish Iwas _dead_!"

  On the following day, Len took Moira to the doctor's office, wherethey read dog-eared copies of _The Rotarian_ and _Field and Stream_for an hour.

  Dr. Berry was a round little man with soulful eyes and atwenty-four-hour bedside manner. On the walls of his office, where itis customary for doctors to hang all sorts of diplomas andcertificates of membership, Berry had only three. The rest of thespace was filled with enlarged colored photographs of beautiful,beautiful children.

  When Len followed Moira determinedly into the consulting room, Berrylooked mildly shocked for a moment, then apparently decided to carryon as if nothing outre had happened. You could not say that he spoke,or even whispered; he rustled.

  "Now, Mrs. Connington, we're looking just fine today. How have we beenfeeling?"

  "Just fine. My husband thinks I'm insane."

  "That's g--Well, that's a funny thing for him to think, isn't it?"Berry glanced at the wall midway between himself and Len, thenshuffled some file cards rather nervously. "Now. Have we had anysoreness in our stomach?"

  "Yes. He's been kicking me black and blue."

  Berry misinterpreted Moira's brooding glance at Len, and his eyebrowstwitched involuntarily.

  "The baby," said Len. "The _baby_ kicks her."

  Berry
coughed. "Any headaches? Dizziness? Vomiting? Swelling in ourlegs or ankles?"

  "No."

  "All rightie. Now let's just find out how much we've gained, and thenwe'll get up on the examination table."

  Berry drew the sheet down over Moira's abdomen as if it were anexceptionally fragile egg. He probed delicately with his fatfingertips, then used the stethoscope.

  "Those X-rays," said Len. "Have they come back yet?"

  "Mm-hm," said Berry. "Yes, they have." He moved the stethoscope andlistened again.

  "Did they show anything unusual?" Len asked.

  Berry's