'Nasty old wind,' Mrs Taylor said, hoisting the child on to her shoulder and patting its back.
It belched twice in quick succession.
'There you are, my darling, you'll be all right now.'
For a few seconds, the yelling stopped. Then it started again.
'Keep belching her,' Albert said. 'She's drunk it too quick.'
His wife lifted the baby back on to her shoulder. She rubbed its spine. She changed it from one shoulder to the other. She lay it on its stomach on her lap. She sat it up on her knee. But it didn't belch again, and the yelling became louder and more insistent every minute.
'Good for the lungs,' Albert Taylor said, grinning. 'That's the way they exercise their lungs, Mabel, did you know that?'
'There, there, there,' the wife said, kissing it all over the face. 'There, there, there.'
They waited another five minutes, but not for one moment did the screaming stop.
'Change the nappy,' Albert said. 'It's got a wet nappy, that's all it is.' He fetched a clean one from the kitchen, and Mrs Taylor took the old one off and put the new one on.
This made no difference at all.
'Waa! Waa! Waa! Waa! Waa!' the baby yelled.
'You didn't stick the safety pin through the skin, did you, Mabel?'
'Of course I didn't,' she said, feeling under the nappy with her fingers to make sure.
The parents sat opposite one another in their armchairs, smiling nervously, watching the baby on the mother's lap, waiting for it to tire and stop screaming.
'You know what?' Albert Taylor said at last.
'What?'
'I'll bet she's still hungry. I'll bet all she wants is another swig at that bottle. How about me fetching her an extra lot?'
'I don't think we ought to do that, Albert.'
'It'll do her good,' he said, getting up from his chair. 'I'm going to warm her up a second helping.'
He went into the kitchen, and was away several minutes. When he returned he was holding a bottle brimful of milk.
'I made her a double,' he announced. 'Eight ounces. Just in case.'
'Albert! Are you mad? Don't you know it's just as bad to overfeed as it is to underfeed?'
'You don't have to give her the lot, Mabel. You can stop any time you like. Go on,' he said, standing over her. 'Give her a drink.'
Mrs Taylor began to tease the baby's upper lip with the end of the nipple. The tiny mouth closed like a trap over the rubber teat and suddenly there was silence in the room. The baby's whole body relaxed and a look of absolute bliss came over its face as it started to drink.
'There you are, Mabel! What did I tell you?'
The woman didn't answer.
'She's ravenous, that's what she is. Just look at her suck.'
Mrs Taylor was watching the level of the milk in the bottle. It was dropping fast, and before long three or four ounces out of the eight had disappeared.
'There,' she said. 'That'll do.'