DECIDING DESTINIES
Tired of carrying the children about, the two boys sat down on a
bench beside what had once been a large barn. The destructive fire
started by the invaders had apparently been checked by a heavy
rainfall as the half burned structures and charred timbers
testified. There was still a chance to rebuild and save enough from
the wreckage to enable the owners to start their lives afresh. But
alas, of those owners but two were left--the two tiny, terrified,
war-racked creatures in the arms of the two Boy Scouts. While their
little charges slept, the boys continued their talk in a low tone.
Their arms, unaccustomed to such burdens, were tired and stiff by
the time one of the officers left the distant group and approached
them.
“Why don’t you lay the poor little cubs down somewhere?” he asked,
looking round vainly for a fit place.
“No place to put ’em, sir,” said Porky, “and every time we start to
move them, they clutch us and start to scream. As long as we sort of
keep ’em hugged up tight, they sleep.”
“It’s awful--awful!” said the officer. “I wish I knew what to do with
them now. There’s not an asylum of any sort, not a place fit to
leave them within miles and miles, and what’s to become of them _I_
don’t know. Every orphan asylum in France is crowded.”
“Oh, that’s all right,” said Porky. “We don’t intend they shall go
to any asylum. Our mother has adopted them.”
“Your what?” asked the captain after a prolonged stare.
“Our mother,” repeated Porky.
“Your mother has _WHAT_?” said the captain. “Just repeat it all.”
“Our mother has adopted them,” said Porky patiently and distinctly.
The captain pushed back his cap and stared.
“Where is your mother?” he asked.
“Home,” said Porky.
“New York state,” added Beany. “She wanted something to remember the
war by, so we are going to take her these. She didn’t want any
German helmets or anything of that sort. She said she didn’t want
ever to be reminded of helmets, so we will take her these instead.”
“But, good heavens!” said the officer. “You ought not do anything
like that! She would have to bring them up.”
“That’s all right, too,” said Porky. “Mom has had experience. She
has had us, and one of these is a girl. Girls ought to be easier
than boys.”
“No, she won’t mind and, anyhow, we are going to do all the hard
work ourselves. Teaching them swimming and baseball and all that.”
“The girl will like that,” said the officer dryly.
“Course she will!” said Beany, looking proudly down at the future
baseballess.
“It’s like this,” said Porky. “Our people always trust us, and we
know it will be all right. I do hope you can fix it for us,
Captain.”
“It would be a wonderful thing for those poor little orphans,” mused
the Captain. “But how would you get them home?”
“That’s easy,” said Porky. “Our time is up pretty soon. You see we
were only allowed a limited stay. That was the agreement when we
came, and we can take the kids over with us. Won’t you _please_ get
General Pershing to fix it up for us? There will be some woman on
board to tell us what they ought to eat, and when to put ’em to bed
and all that.”
“It would be a wonderful thing,” said the Captain again. “If you are
sure about your mother. It’s a good deal to wish off on her.”
“Feel in my left pocket,” said Porky. “Feel that letter? Now take it
out and read it. It’s all right. She wouldn’t mind, and I’m proud of
mother’s letters.”
The Captain drew out the letter which was much thumbed and soiled,
and read:
“_My own dear boys_:
“It was good to hear from you both again after the long
time between letters. A whole month, in which we
received not so much as a post card. But something told
me that you were safe and well, so I did not worry. You
know, dears, I am not the worrying kind when it comes to
that. Your dad, who boasts continually that he never
worries over _any_thing, does all the fussing for the
whole family, but as long as he doesn’t know it, and we
never tell him, why, I suppose it is all right.
“I wrote you a long letter yesterday, telling you all
the news of the neighborhood, and this is only a note to
acknowledge your letter at once because in my letter I
said that we had not heard in a long time.
“Well, dears, it will not be very many weeks now before
we will hope to see our boys again. I am counting the
very days. I wonder what souvenir of the war you will
bring me. It will be something I will love to have, I
know, and not a horrid helmet or anything of that sort.
Of course the thing I would like best you can’t possibly
bring me, and that is a house full of those poor pitiful
little Belgian refugees. When I think of our big house,
this splendid home we have built since you went away,
when I think that soon it will be finished, and we will
be in it, just we four, I can scarcely bear it. So
_many_ little children homeless!
“Well, some day, boys, we must manage to do something
for some of those suffering little ones. I know of no
other way in which to thank God for our two boys and our
many, many blessings. Your father is prospering more and
more in his business, and we both feel that we must all
four unite in doing for those less fortunate than we.
“However, I know I can’t hope for a couple of Belgians
just at present. After the war, we will go and collect a
few!
“Take care of yourselves always for the sake of the two
who love you so well.
“Your always loving
“Mother.”
“Well, I declare!” said the Captain as he finished the clearly
written page.
“Doesn’t that about fix it?” asked Porky triumphantly. “Of course
these are French, but I guess she won’t mind that. They couldn’t be
worse off in the way of parents or more destitute, no matter _what_
they were.”
“Mother will be in her glory,” Beany cut in. “I hope they don’t get
fat before we get them home.”
“I should say not! The thinner, the better as far as mother is
concerned. She snaked a private right out of the camp hospital last
summer and took him home. He had had pneumonia and looked like a
sick sparrow. Mother fed him and nursed him and he gained seventeen
pounds in three weeks.”
“Well, it does beat all!” said the Captain. “Of course, you
understand there may be some reason that will make it impossible for
you to take these children out of the country.”
“All I can say is, there hadn’t _better_ be,” said Porky, thrusting
out his square jaw. “Think I want to give up my kid after it came to
me and I lugged it around for an hour?”
“And do you suppose I want anybody but mother and me to bring up
this girl?” said Beany, awkwardly hugging the sleeping mite in his
arms closer.
“Besides,” said Porky, “what about mother? It’s up to us to bring
her what she likes best, and you read that letter. What she wants is
_orphans_, and she’s _got_ to _have_ ’em if we _steal_ ’em! So long
as we are around, mother has got to have what she wants.”
“I should think that nearly settled it,” said the officer. He
laughed but there was a queer gleam in his eyes that looked
suspiciously like tears. “I am going to report this to the General
now,” he said. “Of course we cannot take the children with us, and
some way must be found of sending them back to headquarters. I don’t
see just how it is to be done, as it would be a pity to make you go
back with them when this trip is only beginning and will be a
wonderful thing for you.”
“No, we hate to lose the trip,” said Porky wistfully. “I don’t
suppose two other Boy Scouts in the whole world ever had such a
chance and we sort of earned it.”
“Stay here,” said the Captain, “and I will be back presently.”
He walked away, and the two boys, holding the two children, sat
quietly on the old bench planning in low tones for the future.
“This girl is going to be a peach,” said Beany proudly. “See the way
her hair crinkles up? She is rank dirty, but you wait till mother
gets her cleaned up.”
“My word!” said Porky. “She’s got to be washed before _that_! Why,
they have to have a bath right off as soon as we get hold of a nurse
or some woman who understands enough about kids to do it.”
“Yes, it’s an awful job,” said Beany. “All the soap gets in their
eyes and nose, and there’s the mischief to pay. And I want an expert
to wash this kid. It makes their eyes red to get soap in ’em, and I
don’t want hers spoiled.”
“Wonder what their names are,” said Porky.
“Oh, they are named all right. I suppose we didn’t get ’em soon
enough to attend to that, but we can call ’em what we like. Don’t
you know how it is with a registered dog? Don’t you remember the two
collies Skippy Fields has, one named Knocklayde King Ben and the
other Nut Brown Maiden, and Skippy’s folks called ’em Benny and
Nutty. I bet they each have about thirteen names apiece, but while
I’m bringing her up, this girl’s going to be called Peggy.”
“And this is Bill,” said Porky without the least hesitation. “Bill.
Just _Bill_ so you can yell at him good and easy.”
They went on planning while behind them, over the soft, uneven
ground the staff approached unheard and stood watching the little
group.
Presently, still unheard and unnoticed by the boys, they turned
away.
“And there are those,” said General Pershing solemnly, “who do not
believe that a special Providence watches over children! The boys
_shall_ take those two orphans home to that good mother of theirs,
if it takes an Act of Congress. You say,” he continued, talking to
the French officer in his own musical tongue, “you say that poor
woman said that all her people were gone?”
“All dead, all lost in this war,” answered the Frenchman.
“Well, if this was only in a movie show,” said the great General,
“we would presently see a car headed for the rear, coming around
that bend ahead, and we would be able to--well, I declare,” he
exclaimed, as one of the officers laughed and pointed. “That’s
positively _too_ much!” as the group laughed with him.
A large car _was_ coming along around the bend, it _was_ headed for
the rear, and in the tonneau sat a couple of nurses in their snug
caps and dark capes!
The General himself halted it, and in a few words explained the
situation. A couple of the officers, accompanied by the nurses, went
over to the boys and at once the children, still sleeping the heavy
sleep of exhaustion, were transferred to arms more accustomed to
holding them, and carried back to the car. Almost before they
realized it, the car was off and Porky turned to the General,
saluting.
“Out with it, young man,” said the kindly General, smiling down into
the eager and troubled face.
“We will get ’em back, won’t we, sir?” he asked. “They can’t work
some game on us, so we will lose ’em!”
“We lost a pup that way once,” said Beany dolefully, also coming to
salute.
“Well, you won’t lose your orphans,” the General promised. “I wish I
could see your mother’s face when your little party appears.”
“Why, we will write you what she says if you will let us, sir,”
Porky volunteered.
“She will be crazy over Bill and Peggy,” added Beany, looking fondly
after the car vanishing with their new possessions.
“Beel ant Pekky!” groaned the Frenchman.
“Wee, Mussoo, we have named them already,” said Porky proudly. “We
know they have some other names, kind of names, they were registered
under, but that kid has to have _something_ easy to yell at him when
he makes a home run, and Beany picked on Peggy right off.”
“That about settles it,” laughed the General. “We must be off if we
reach our first sector by nightfall.”