"Sister's who?"
"Sister's Fidget, please, sir."
I learnt afterwards that she was a most useful young woman. All the
clothes worn at "Babies' Castle" are given by friends. No clothing is
bought, and this young woman has them all tried on her, and after the
fitting of some thirty or forty frocks, etc., she--fidgets! Hence her
name.
"But why does that little boy sleep by you?" I questioned again.
[Illustration: "IN THE INFIRMARY." _From a Photo. by Elliott & Fry._]
"That's Erney. He walks in his seep. One night I couldn't seep. As I was
tieing to look out of the window--Erney came walking down here. He was
fast aseep. I got up ever so quick."
[Illustration: "A QUIET PULL." _From a Photo. by Elliott & Fry._]
"And what did you do?'
"Put him in his bed again!"
[Illustration: "IN THE SCHOOLROOM." _From a Photo. by Elliott & Fry._]
I went upstairs with Sister Alice to the nursery. Here are the very
smallest of them all. Some of the occupants of the white enamel
cribs--over which the name of the babe appears--are only a very few
weeks old. Here is Frank in a blue frock. It was Frank who came in the
condensed milk box. He is still at his bottle as he was when first he
came. Sleeping opposite each other are the fat lady and gentleman of the
establishment. Annie is only seven months and three days old. She weighs
16lb. 4oz. She was bathed later on--and took to the water beautifully.
Arthur is eleven months. He only weighs 22lb. 4oz.! Eighteen gallons of
milk are consumed every day at "Babies' Castle," from sixty to seventy
bottles filled per diem, and all the bottle babies are weighed every
week and their record carefully kept. A glance through this book reveals
the indisputable fact that Arthur puts on flesh at a really alarming
rate. But there are many others who are "growing" equally as well. The
group of youngsters who were carried from the nursery to the garden,
where they could sit in their chairs in the sunshine and enjoy a quiet
pull at their respective bottles, would want a lot of beating for
healthy faces, lusty voices, and seemingly never-to-be-satisfied
appetites.
A piteous moan is heard. It comes from a corner partitioned off. The
coverlet is gently cast on one side for a moment, and I ask that it may
quickly be placed back again. It is the last one sent to "Babies'
Castle." I am wondering still if this poor little mite can live. It is
five months old. It weighs 4lb. 1oz. Such was the little one when I was
at "Babies' Castle."
[Illustration: THE NURSING STAFF. _From a Photo. by Elliott & Fry._]
I looked in at the surgery, presided over by a fully-qualified lady
doctor; thence to the infirmary, where were just three or four occupants
suffering from childish complaints, the most serious of which was that
of the youngster christened "Jim Crow." Jimmy was "off his feed." Still,
he could shout--aye, as loud as did his famous namesake. He sat up in
his little pink flannel nightgown, and screamed with delight. And poor
Jimmy soon learnt how to do it. He only had to pull the string, and the
aforementioned funny little wooden man kicked his legs about as no
mortal ever did, could, or will.
[Illustration: "BABIES' BROUGHAM." _From a Photo. by Elliott & Fry._]
I saw the inhabitants at "Babies' Castle" in the schoolroom. Here they
are happily perched on forms and desks, listening to some simple story,
which appeals to their childish fancies. How they sing! They "bring down
the house" with their thumping on the wooden desks as an accompaniment
to the "big bass drum," whilst a certain youngster's rendering of a
juvenile ditty, known as "The Muffin Man," is calculated to make one
remember his vocal efforts whenever the hot and juicy muffin is put on
the breakfast table. Little Mary still trips it neatly. She can't quite
forget the days and nights when she used to accompany her mother round
the public-houses and dance for coppers. Jane is also a terpsichorean
artiste, and tingles the tambourine to the stepping of her feet; whilst
Annie is another disciple of the art, and sings a song with the strange
refrain of "Ta-ra-ra-Boom-de-ay!"
[Illustration: AT THE GATE. _From a Photo. by Elliott & Fry._]
Now, hurrah for play!--and off we go helter-skelter to the fields,
Laddie barking and jumping at the youngsters with unsuppressed delight.
[Illustration: IN THE PLAYING FIELDS. _From a Photo. by Elliott & Fry._]
If you can escape from joining in their games--but they are
irresistible--do, and walk quietly round and take stock of these rescued
little ones. Notice this small contingent just starting from the porch.
Babies' brougham only consists of a small covered cart, with a highly
respectable donkey--warranted not to proceed too fast--attached to it.
Look at this group at the gate. They can't quite understand what "the
genelman" with the cloth over his head and a big brown box on three
pieces of stick is going to do, but it is all right. They are taught to
smile here, and the photographer did not forget to put it down. And I
open the gate and let them down the steps, the little girl with the
golden locks all over her head sharply advising her smaller companions
to "Come along--come along!" Then young Christopher mounts the
rocking-horse of the establishment, the swinging-boats are quickly
crammed up with passengers, and twenty or thirty more little minds are
again set wondering as to why "the genelman" will wrap his head up in a
piece of black cloth and cover his eyes whenever he wants to _see_ them!
And the Castle perambulator! How pretty the occupants--how ready the
hands to give Susan and Willie a trip round. They shout, they jump,
they do all and more than most children, so wild and free is their
delight.
[Illustration: THE "CASTLE" PERAMBULATOR. _From a Photo. by Elliott &
Fry._]
The sun is shining upon these one-time waifs and strays, these children
of the East--the flowers seem to grow for them, and the grass keeps
green as though to atone for the dark days which ushered in their birth.
Let them sing to-day--they were made to sing--let them be _children_
indeed. Let them shout and tire their tiny limbs in play--they will
sleep all the better for it, and eat a bigger breakfast in the morning.
The nurses are beginning to gather in their charges. Laddie is leaping
and barking round the hedge-rows in search of any wanderers.
[Illustration: ON THE STEPS. _From a Photo. by Elliott & Fry._]
And the inhabitants of "Babies' Castle" congregate on the steps of their
home. We are saying "Good-bye." "Jim Crow" is held up to the window
inside, and little Ernest, the blind boy, waves his hands with the
others and shouts in concert. I drive away. But one can hear their
voices just as sweet to-night as on one day last summer!