““These American girls,” she was thinking as her pudgy fingers lightly shaped the dough and poked bits of chicken into them, the sweat damp on her forehead and just over her lips where the slight, dark shadow of a mustache was visible. “Planning babies so they don’t have to carry them in the summer! Who ever heard of such a thing? Why in the old country,” she smiled thinking of when she was young, “they just had them. You didn’t plan children there.” She had a right to think the American girls were foolish. She was a midwife and business had been bad all summer, and she had seven children of her own to feed since her husband had died.””
