Early Deaths
Eleanor Ross Taylor
The baby did not know. Felicia, waking early to despair that made the very light seem granite, heard faintly the morning song the baby made from the little room at the end of the hall, voicing snatches of welcome to his hands and heels, as he waited solitary for Mrs. Schmidt to come to him.
"I'm sorry you had to get up so early again," Felicia had said more than once, and Mrs. Schmidt always beamed at the creature on her shoulder.
"Why, he was just the pleasantest little thing. Just smiled at me the whole time. I've always loved being around childring."
