HOW KATE FOUND A BABY
I had been spending the winter, as you know, with my sister in San
Francisco, going to school, and I was expecting to come home in a few
days when the thing happened.
I was awakened by being flung violently out of bed across the room,
where all the light furniture, such as chairs and all loose things,
followed me. I tried to get up, but I could not stand, the house shook
so. It seemed like a ship in a rough sea. In a minute the plastering
began to fall, and I feared it would fall on my head, so by hard work
I dragged myself to the door, which I tried to open. At first it was
jammed so tight together that I could not stir it, but the next shake
of the house flung it wide open, and I crept into the hall, where I
found the whole family hurrying out of their rooms, all in
nightclothes, of course, and scared most to death.
"We must get out of the house before the walls fall," said my
brother-in-law, helping his wife down the stairs, which swayed and
tottered as if they would fall, every minute. We all followed them in
such a hurry that I don't remember how I got to the bottom. I only
remember finding myself on the sidewalk in my nightdress, barefooted
and bareheaded, of course.
We did not think how we looked; the street was full of people, many of
them as little dressed as we, and all hurrying to get out of the
streets, where any minute the houses might fall on them. Our apartment
was in a large apartment house in a street full of tall buildings, and
when I looked up at them I saw them rock and bend towards each other,
so that it seemed as if they would fall together and crush us all.
My first trouble was getting separated from my sister and her husband,
in the confusion of the crowd. I soon found myself alone among
strangers. I tried to turn back to find them, but everybody was going
the other way and I couldn't move a step, so I had to go with the
crowd. I was pushed and hurried on with the rest towards a park at the
end of the street, feeling desolate enough, you may be sure.
Strange things I saw on the way; none of the people more than half
dressed, and many of them just as they got out of bed, but one and
all, except myself, carrying some of their possessions. Some had
armfuls of clothes which they had snatched up as they ran, and they
kept dropping shoes and light things, so that the street was littered
with them and I was constantly stumbling over them; some had an armful
of books or papers; others carried pieces of china or silver; many had
satchels or suit-cases, and one or two were dragging trunks.
A great many people had children; some holding one and dragging one or
two others; more than one I saw carrying sick persons unable to walk.
It was curious to see the number of pets that were being carried;
birds, of course, many in cages, but some in the hands--such as
parrots. One woman had three cages of canaries, which she had the
greatest difficulty in holding; another had a birdcage in one hand and
a great cat in the other arm. There was no end to the small dogs in
arms--barking and howling, most of them; but the cats were struggling
as if scared out of their wits. Sometimes a bird or a cat would break
away and disappear at once in the crowd, and I wondered where the poor
things went. But many were carried safely, I am sure, for the park,
where we all--thousands of us--spent the day and night, seemed to have
almost as many animals as people.
In the park I found the baby. She was sitting on the ground, holding
in her arms a big cat. She was smiling and talking to "Kitty," and did
not seem at all frightened by the crowd and the confusion around her.
I thought her mother must have left her for a minute, and I sat down
beside her to keep watch that no harm came to her.
There I sat all that day and night, but no one came to claim her. She
could not tell me anything, of course, but she took kindly to me.
Indeed, she seemed to adopt me from the first minute, and she was so
sweet I couldn't bear to leave her. She never once cried except when
she got very hungry, and when she found, in the morning, that her cat
had gone.
[Illustration: In the park I found a baby ... and I sat down beside it.]
I had, after the first attempt, given up going about looking for my
sister. I knew she would be looking for me, and I could not bear to
leave the baby, as I said. Through that long night I sat watching the
city burn, holding in my arms the dear little thing, who slept through
it all. I was so excited that I almost forgot that I was not dressed.
Many people around me were in the same plight, but it was a warm
night, so that we did not suffer.
But how alone I did feel! I did not know whether Belle and Harry were
alive, nor how I should ever get home. It seemed as if we should all
be burned up, anyway. The park was almost as crowded as a city; people
everywhere around me; some lying asleep, tired out, on the bare
ground; others mourning over their losses, and others guarding the
few things they had saved. One woman near me had two pillow-cases full
of things, which she sat on all night, and another had a bedquilt,
which she spread out for her four children to lie on.
It's very queer, but I seem to forget about a good deal of the time
the next day, for I can hardly remember how long it was when, after
hours of walking, it seemed to me, I reached the place where food was
being given out, the baby in my arms, of course. And not until I had
eaten a piece of bread and seen her nibbling on one, too, did I seem
to come to myself and rouse myself to see what I could do.
All this time baby was still mourning her lost kitty, and trying to
take every cat she saw. It was wonderful how many people had cats with
them; some held by a string, some in birdcages, but many held in arms.
When the people got food I noticed that they always seemed to share
with their pets. There were a great many dogs, but they were not so
wild as the cats; they stayed by their friends.
There were lots and lots of canaries in cages, and parrots and other
large birds, some in cages and some held in hands or seated on the
shoulders of their owners.
After having something to eat and getting really waked up, I began to
think what I should do. My first thought was to try to get over to
Oakland, where we had friends, so I started off towards the ferry. My
feet were blistered and sore, and it was hard to walk; my hair was
flying every way, for of course my braids had come out and I had no
comb or brush. I must have looked like a crazy creature. As I came
past a wagon in which a woman was distributing clothes, she noticed me
and spoke to me. I had not seen that she had clothes. She called out,
"See here, my girl! I think I have a bundle for you," and she put a
large package in my hands, marked, "To be given to some one girl in
need."
"You look like the one for whom this was intended," she said kindly,
as I took the package, "and I think I can give you something for the
baby, too," she went on.
She did not find any clothes suitable, but she gave me a white flannel
petticoat to wrap round her. Then I borrowed a knife from a man who
was cutting bread, and cut armholes, and slipped the petticoat over
her. The band came around her shoulders, and her nightgown covered her
neck and arms. She did look too cute for anything in her odd dress.
As soon as I could find a rather quiet place under a low tree--for
I was still in the park--I opened my bundle. I wish I could know
the woman who made up that package, I should like to have her know
what a godsend it was; why, it held a complete outfit for a girl
of my size, from shoes and stockings up to a hat. Nothing had been
forgotten--underclothes--towel--soap--comb--pins--handkerchief--even
ribbons to tie the hair. Above all, a comfortable dress of some gray
goods, which fitted me pretty well.
It didn't take me long to put them on, to comb my hair, and wash
myself and baby with the towel wet in a pond, and then I began to feel
more like myself. With both of us comfortably dressed I started again
with fresh courage for the ferry to Oakland.
I had to go a very roundabout way, so many streets were closed because
of the fires raging everywhere. I haven't said much about the fires,
but it seemed to me the whole world was burning up. I am sure I walked
miles, and not knowing that part of the city very well, I guess I
walked more than I needed to.
As I was passing wearily down one of the streets I happened to glance
over the other side, and saw my brother-in-law. He was hurrying the
other way, going out towards the park, looking for me.
I cried out, "Harry!"
He turned, looked over, but seeing only a well-dressed girl with a
child in her arms, was rushing, on when I called out again.
"Harry! don't you know me? I'm Kate!"
Then he hurried over, perfectly astounded.
"Why, Kate!" he cried, "where did you get those clothes? Did you bring
them from the house? And whose baby is that? Thank God I have found
you! Belle is nearly crazy about you!"
Of course I told my story as we hurried to the ferry. He did not
object to the baby; he fell in love with her as I had, and neither of
us dreamed of leaving her, and he carried her himself. He told me that
he and my sister, after looking in vain for me, and suffering agonies
about me, had managed to get over the ferry that first day, and were
with friends in Oakland. As soon as he got Belle safely through he had
come back to look for me. He had great trouble to get back, for people
were not allowed to land in the city. He had to hire a man who had a
small boat to bring him over. He had been roaming the streets ever
since--that was a whole day and another night, you know.
He had brought from Oakland a raincoat to put over me, the only thing
that could be found, our friends having already given everything they
had to destitute people. Even my sister, he said, was not more than
half dressed. The raincoat, which he held on his arm, I did not need,
and when we came upon a lady not even so well dressed as I had been, I
proposed to give it to her. She took it with sobs and tears of thanks.
Learning that she had friends in Oakland, Harry offered to have her
join us, but she was looking for her family and would not go.
You can't imagine what crowds were packing the ferry boats. We had to
wait hours before we could get on one. Such a jam I never saw. I
should never have got over alone. I had to hang on to Harry's arm with
all my strength, while he held baby up high so that she should not be
crushed. It was fearful!
On the boat were more strange sights. I saw several women with big
hats on, and nothing else but nightclothes; but queerest were men in
similar costume with hats on their heads--they did look too funny for
anything. I saw girls with dolls in their arms, and some with cats and
dogs and parrots. A good many women had Japanese kimonos, and others
were loaded with jewelry, chains and bracelets, and there were people
wrapped like Indians, in blankets and sheets they had snatched from
their beds. Oh, I can never tell you half the strange things I saw on
that boat!
When we got to our friends in Oakland we found the house full, and my
sister had been almost wild about me. She was surprised enough to see
me well dressed, and with baby, too.
Of course none of us had any money, and our friends had given away all
they happened to have out of the bank at the time, so we had to stay
there a few days. The railroads carried people free to Los Angeles,
and there my brother-in-law could get money and buy clothes, but the
cars were so crowded that it was two or three days before we could get
a chance to go, and when we did get there we stayed a few days to
prepare for our journey home. Belle came with me and baby, but Harry
went back to San Francisco to see about starting business again.
Belle wants to keep baby herself, unless her parents appear, but I
can't bear to give her pup, though I suppose it would be ridiculous
for a schoolgirl to adopt a baby, and mother such an invalid that she
couldn't have the care of her. Isn't she sweet, though?
* * * * *
"She's a precious pet," said Mrs Crawford, holding her closely in her
arms. "I should dearly love to keep her myself!"
"Oh, do!" cried Kristy eagerly, "that is, if Kate'll give her up.
What's her name, Kate?"
"Of course I don't know her real name," said Kate; "but I think I
shall call her Francesca, after the place where I found her."
"That'll be good," said Kristy.
But now Uncle Tom interrupted, taking the sleepy baby in his arms.
"Miss Francesca ought to be in bed long ago, so we must say
good-night, everybody," and he started off. Kristy cried after him,
"Good-night, Uncle Tom, and thank you for the fine ending to my Rainy
Day Picnic."
By Olive Thorne Miller
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Transcriber's Note:
Variations in hyphenated words have been retained as in the
original publication.
On page 117 an open quotation mark has been added before
This is something new."
End of Project Gutenberg's Kristy's Rainy Day Picnic, by Olive Thorne Miller