down to the driveway and waited for the taxi. The night was clear and the stars were out. Catherine was very excited.
“I’m so glad it’s started,” she said. “Now in a little while it will be all over.”
“You’re a good brave girl.”
“I’m not afraid. I wish the taxi would come, though.”
We heard it coming up the street and saw its headlights. It turned into the driveway and I helped Catherine in and the driver put the bag up in front.
“Drive to the hospital,” I said.
We went out of the driveway and started up the hill.
At the hospital we went in and I carried the bag. There was a woman at the desk who wrote down Catherine’s name, age, address, relatives and religion, in a book. She said she had no religion and the woman drew a line in the space after that word. She gave her name as Catherine Henry.
“I will take you up to your room,” she said. We went up in an elevator. The woman stopped it and we stepped out and followed her down a hall. Catherine held tight to my arm.
“This is the room,” the woman said. “Will you please undress and get into bed? Here is a nightgown for you to wear.”
“I have a nightgown,” Catherine said.
“It is better for you to wear this nightgown,” the woman said.
I went outside and sat on a chair in the hallway.
“You can come in now,” the woman said from the doorway. Catherine was lying in the narrow bed wearing a plain, square-cut nightgown that looked as though it were made of rough sheeting. She smiled at me.
