Farnham’s Freehold By Robert A. Heinlein

“Karen, why do you keep saying ‘he’ and ‘him’?”

“’Why?’ Joe told you. Doe thinks he is a boy cat-and who am I to argue? He’s always thought so, he was the feistiest kitten we ever had. 11mm- Kittens. Barbie, the first time Doe came into heat we arranged for Doe to meet a gentleman cat of exalted ancestry. But it wasn’t Doe’s métier and he beat the hell out of the tomcat. So we quit trying. Mmm- Calendar girl, how long have we been here?”

“Sixty-two days. I’ve looked it up; it’s sixty days with a normal range to seventy.”

“So it’s any time now. I’ll bet you two back rubs that we are up all night tonight. Cats never have kittens at a convenient hour.” Karen abruptly changed the subject. “Barbie, what do you miss most? Cigarettes?”

“I’ve quit thinking of them. Eggs, I guess. Eggs for breakfast.”

“Daddy did plan for that. Fertilized eggs and a little incubator. But he hadn’t built it and anyhow, eggs would have busted. Yes, I miss eggs. But I wish cows laid eggs and Daddy had figured out how to bring cow eggs along. Ice cream! Cold milk!”

“Butter,” agreed Barbara. “Banana splits with whipped cream. Chocolate malts.”

“Stop it! Barbie, I’m starving in front of your eyes.”

Barbara pinched her. “You aren’t fading way. Fact is, you’ve put on weight.”

“Perhaps.” Karen shut up and began on the dishes.

Presently she said in a low voice, “Barbie, Doe won’t hand this household half the surprise I’m going to.”

“How, hon?”

“I’m pregnant.”

“Huh?”

“You heard me. Pregnant. Knocked up, if you insist on the technical term!”

“Are you sure, dear?”

“Of course I’m sure! I had a test, the froggie winked at me. Hell, I’m four months gone.” Karen threw herself into the arms of the older girl. “And I’m scared!”

Barbara hugged her. “There, there, dear. It’s going to be all right.”

“The hell it is,” Karen blubbered. “Mother’s going to raise hell. . . and there aren’t any hospitals. . . nor doctors. Oh, why didn’t Duke study medicine? Barbie, I’m going to die. I know I am.”

“Karen, that’s silly. More babies have been born without doctors and hospitals than ever were wheeled into a delivery room. You’re not scared of dying, you’re scared of telling your parents.”

“Well, that, too.” Karen wiped at her eyes and sniffed. “Uh- Barbie, don’t be mad. . . but that’s why I invited you down that weekend.”

“I figured Mother wouldn’t raise quite so much hell if you were present. Most girls in our chapter are either squares or sluts, and silly heads besides. But you are neither and I knew you would stand up for me.”

“Thank you, dear.”

“Thank me, hell! I was using you.”

“It’s the finest compliment another woman ever paid me.” Barbara wiped a tear from Karen’s face and tweaked her cheek. “I’m glad I’m here. So you haven’t told your parents?”

“Well, I was going to. But the attack hit . . . and then Mother went to pieces. . . and Daddy has been loaded down with worries and there’s never been the right time.”

“Karen, you aren’t scared to tell your father, just your mother.”

“Well. . . Mother mostly. But Daddy, too. Besides being shocked and hurt-he’ll think it was silly of me to get caught.”

“While he’s certain to be surprised, I doubt the other.” Barbara hesitated. “Karen, you needn’t take this alone. I can share it.”

“That’s what I had hoped. That’s why I asked you to come home with me. I told you.”

“I mean really share it. I’m pregnant, too.”

“What?”

“Yes. We can tell them together.”

“Good Lord, Barbara! How did it happen?”

Barbara shrugged. “Careless. How did it happen to you?” Karen suddenly grinned. “How? A bee sprinkled pollen on me; how else? ‘Who’ you mean.”

“’Who’ I don’t care about. Your business. Well, dear? Shall we go tell them? I’ll do the talking.”

“Wait a minute. You hadn’t planned to tell anybody? Or had you?”

“Why, no,” Barbara answered truthfully, “I was going to wait until it showed.”

Karen looked at Barbara’s waistline. “It doesn’t show. Are you sure?”