On my birthday, December 4, my mother walked over in the melting snow to see me. She slipped on something and looking down she saw something green. She picked up a two-dollar bill. My delighted mother came into my room holding the dripping bill and said, "Here is a starter for your daughter's savings account. Mother wrote the happy news about the baby to Mr. And Mrs. McKesson. They wrote to me immediately enclosing a $25 check for the babe's savings account.
When Lion had rested a day or two he went to see Mrs. Cartright and to get some of our possessions. He had telephoned her about the safe arrival of the baby. Mother insisted that we should give up that place and stay with them until I was stronger and Lion could get a better job. I had never repeated Mrs. Cartright's last gloomy remarks about a first child being too weak to live. She came into our room twice to tell me how much she had enjoyed having us live with her, how delightful our evenings were at her dinner table because my husband was always so pleasant and entertaining. Then she would say, “If the child does not live I do hope you will continue living with me." If I had repeated this to Lion I fear he would have lost his usual control and punched her jaw.
Life went slowly at the hospital because my premature baby slept most of the time. She was brought to me to nurse on the third day as was the custom, but after a few weak efforts to get a taste of milk she would sleep. To make matters worse I had almost no milk, but Dr. Royston insisted that the baby try to nurse every three hours. They gave me food between meals so there was little peace day or night.
In about a week there was some improvement. Presents, flowers, and visitors brightened the days, and I was allowed to walk in the hall. Then I was taught to bathe the baby. Just as everything was going well, infantile jaundice came and my weak little babe was sleepier than ever. A formula was prescribed and she was weighed before and after she nursed. We spanked her and while she was crying she was put to my breast. These were trying days indeed, but as I have related in my long story the influence of Sagittarius was at work again.
Saturday noon, Christmas Eve, Lion had lunch with some of his friends at the University Club. Claude Kennerly, Fritz Orrick, and Billie Maffitt joined him. One of them said, "Bill, the lawyer who had charge of Mercantile Trust estates in Joplin has absconded with the funds. We want an honest lawyer down there. Will you go?" Lion said, “My wife is in St. Luke's Hospital with a three-weeks'-old baby that is not thriving very well. I will have to talk this over with Lucy." When he came to see me that evening he looked so well I could hardly believe he was the same worried man I had seen in the morning. He asked me how the baby and I had fared during the day. I gave him the best account I could although I was not altogether pleased with our child's progress. Then I asked if he had had lunch with some friends at the Club. He sat down beside the bed and kissing my hand, said, "I have some news for you that I am not sure you will like." Then he told me what his friends had told him. When he said they wanted an honest lawyer I pulled his hand over to kiss it and said, "Another good job offered to you because you are an honest lawyer. The first one took us to Jefferson City where you did well and we were happy. Tell me more about it." He said this would be mostly office work, inducing some outside work looking after large tracts of land. The salary would be $300 a month, and a house and moving expenses paid for. I gasped with surprise, wonder, joy and some apprehension. Then I said, "Let me think this over and we can talk about it in the morning." Then Lion told me someone else was being considered for the job and they would have to have our answer Monday morning! I said, "It is Christmas Eve and let's open a present or two, and I have some baby presents to show you." I pointed to a large box which contained a pale blue and white crocheted baby carriage cover made of Hercules wool by Mrs. Updike, Emma LaBeaume's mother. Edith Kennerly had sent six smocked French muslin baby dresses that her little girls had worn. A nurse brought our baby in for her supper. Her dark hair had been brushed up into a curly peak. It looked as if it might be curly which delighted me. This ordeal over, Lion kissed me good night and the nurse prepared me for sleep. Sleep would not come because I could not stop thinking over the good job that had been offered to Lion. Then I ate a snack and prayed for help in our decision about leaving St. Louis at such a critical time of my life. After another visit from the baby who nursed better, I had a good sleep.