A cold, penetrating February chill pervaded a farm house in northern Iowa. It was 2: 30 a. m. A light suddenly flashed on and the huddled figure of a woman hurried into a cold kitchen, kindled a fire in the wood stove and stood shivering until the milk for the baby's night feeding was heated. She did not give any particular thought to this duty-it was repeated every night-nor did she begrudge the effort, even though her teeth did chatter and the fire refused to start. She was the baby's mother.</p
