As if she could stop the inevitable from happening. "Can feel... the head..." she panted out... "Coming now... can't wait... Oh God, please!" she prayed and gritted her teeth. What was she to do? Hold the head, she remembered, so it wouldn't come out too fast and tear tissue too much. "Towel there," she pointed to a pile of clean laundry in a wicker basket that could be seen in the parlor. "Twine in kitchen, scissors too." Her head rolled left and right against the wall and she felt another pain, and wasn't even pushing but could feel the child move. She was so frightened, one could see it in her eyes.

"Harold! Oh I need ye so bad, my love!" she lamented just before she bore down because she hadn't a choice. Because it was early for the child to come, it didn't take long at all for him to come... a dark haired lad who was tiny and purplish, squirming as he sought to breathe... With trembling fingers, she did her best to clear his airways of mucus and he gave a soft little cry.