The sad story told the girls, about their friend Mr. Dalken, filled them
with love and compassion for the great-hearted man, and they wondered
how they could do _something_ for him that would not only show their
appreciation of his kindness to them, but at the same time give him
pleasure or happiness. But there seemed no material thing that he
needed, and really, nothing that one could do for him.
"There must be times when he sits alone brooding over his boy and how
different things might have been had he married a different type of
woman," remarked Eleanor, one evening, after leaving their new
class-room.
"Yes; but it seems to me he should have been able to see through such a
shallow thing as that woman must have been, when he returned from
college and found her apparently waiting for him," Polly replied.
"But he's so tender-hearted, you see, he couldn't bear to give her any
pain or trouble. That must have been the only reason why he allowed her
to get him."
"I suppose so. Why, even now, he is an easy prey to the scheming people
who know he has barrels of money, and who simply pretend to be friendly
for what they can get out of him."
"It's too bad he can't be satisfied with just Mr. Ashby and Mr. Fabian
for man friends, and we few women for his women friends," mused Eleanor.
"We'd love him for himself."
Polly smiled. "Wouldn't you and I give him a gay time--with high-school
keeping us employed every week-day, and art class every other night in
the week, to say nothing of lectures, exhibitions, and other things that
Mr. Fabian has us do, in line with our work."
The two girls had crossed Madison and Fourth avenues by this time, and
were slowly walking down the street towards the Studio. It was a
beautiful Fall night, and the moon was almost full, hence they were in
no hurry to reach home and go indoors.
"I hear Anne singing--she must have company," said Polly as they neared
the house.
[Illustration: HE WAS A CHUBBY LITTLE FELLOW.]
"Yes; the windows are open in the living-room, and I can peep under the
shades and see Anne at the piano," whispered Eleanor.
Just then the breeze wafted one of the shades back from the window, and
the girls recognised Mrs. Evans and Mrs. Latimer as the guests of Anne.
"Let's hurry in!" exclaimed Eleanor, suddenly turning from the front
window and darting into the vestibule.
The outside door was open wide, and as Eleanor ran up the one step that
raised the tiled entrance from the sidewalk, she stumbled over a soft
bundle that seemed pushed against the wall.
By this time, Polly also reached the vestibule, but the inside door
being closed and locked for protection, it was too dark in the vestibule
for either of the girls to see what the huge bundle contained.
"It feels like a bundle of old clothes. Maybe some servant hid it here
for a time--she may be going to come back for it," observed Eleanor,
prodding the bundle with her foot.
But to the surprise of both girls, a little squeal issued from the roll.
In the semi-darkness, they stood spell-bound and gazed at each other.
"It's a baby--of all things!" cried Polly, hastily trying the handle of
the door.
"Ring--ring the bell like mad. I'll pick it up!" Eleanor exclaimed,
excitably.
"Open the door--Anne--hurry up! We've found a baby!" called Polly,
leaning over the iron rail that projected over the area door, in front
of the windows.
Both girls forgot that they had latch keys, but Mrs. Evans sat nearest
the window where Polly stood, and quickly answered her call. Eleanor,
meanwhile, had carefully picked up the rolled-up baby and, the moment
the door was flung open, carried it indoors.
"Where did you find it?" exclaimed four amazed women.
"Right at our door--in the vestibule," said Eleanor, placing her bundle
on the divan and proceeding to open it.
"Wasn't anyone in sight?" asked Mrs. Latimer, cautiously.
"Not that we noticed; but, of course, we never thought to look, when we
found what was in the bundle," explained Polly, nervously eager to
assist Eleanor in what she was doing.
Before the swaddling blankets were released from the baby, it began to
utter baby-talk. The females, grouped closely in front of the divan,
smiled appreciatively.
Finally the last wrapper, which was of mosquito netting, came off, and
there lay a chubby little fellow of about fifteen months. He had a fist
in his mouth, and with the other dimpled hand he clutched at Polly's
hair as she leaned over him.
"Oh! Isn't he a darling! He must belong to a neighbor!" exclaimed Mrs.
Stewart.
"He certainly is not starved or poorly cared for," added Mrs. Evans,
with experienced voice.
"But he only has on his nightie! Not another stitch to be found," said
Anne, carefully rolling the baby over to see if he had any clothes under
him.
"There's a note--pinned on the blanket!" cried Polly, anxiously removing
the pin and taking the paper over to the light.
"It says--just one word--'Billy.' Did you ever!" exclaimed Polly,
glancing from one to the other of the friends who were waiting
expectantly to hear about the boy.
"Let's see!" demanded Eleanor, frowning at such a short explanation.
Polly handed the slip of paper to her friend and joined Anne at the
divan where she was divesting the boy of his nightie to see if further
clues might be found. About his fat neck was a very fine gold chain, and
suspended from that was a tiny flat heart-shaped locket. It did not
open, but on the plain gold face was a monogram of three letters: B--
D-- W--.
"Now we've got something to work on! 'B' stands for Billy, of course,
but what can 'D' and 'W' mean?" Eleanor said excitedly.
"No child is christened 'Billy,'" Anne contradicted. "He would be
'William'--and that is what the 'W' is for. Children are nicknamed
'Billy' or 'Willy' later. Now his middle and last name must begin with
the 'B' and 'D'--or vice versa."
"Shake out the blankets carefully--perhaps another paper is pinned to
one of them," said Polly, eagerly.
But there was no other message in the blankets.
"Let's take off his flannel shirt! There may be something there,"
ventured Mrs. Stewart.
In less than a minute, the pins were out and the woven shirt of Merino
was removed, but no further information rewarded the anxious seekers. So
the shirt was carefully replaced and the boy's nightie slipped over his
head again.
"It's all hand-made of fine linen," remarked Mrs. Latimer, as she felt
of the hem at the bottom.
"And one can see that he is no slum child," added Mrs. Evans.
"_Who_ can he be? and why should anyone want to leave him?" were the
perplexing questions Polly asked of the others.
They all shook their heads and wondered. But the boy had no use for such
condolences; he crawled over the divan and when he found not what he was
in search of, he screwed up his dimpled face and began a lusty call.
Anne instantly took him up and began to chirp to him. He smiled a
cheerful thanks and showed eight little front teeth. That brought all
his new friends to his feet--metaphorically speaking.
"_Isn't_ he a dear!" declared Mrs. Stewart to no one in particular.
"Yes, but we have to advertise him at once. It may be that a villain
kidnapped him and ran away with him just to get a reward. He may have
been seen, or chased by the police, and then dropped the baby in our
vestibule," said Mrs. Latimer.
Anne laughed. "Which analysis shows that one of us married a
lawyer--Mrs. Latimer gives us good advice."
"Or he may belong to a young mother who cannot longer earn a living for
him," added Mrs. Stewart.
"That's not likely, mother," returned Anne. "As the child would look
thin and sickly if a mother found it hard to support it. I rather think
it is a babe that belongs to some distracted mother in the neighborhood.
He has evidently been put to bed for the night. Possibly a vindictive
nurse-girl took him from his home to make his parents seek for him and
then left him at the most convenient door."
"Anne's reason sounds the most plausible, and we'd better 'phone the
police-stations at once. Billy's parents may even now be wild with
despair, for we do not know how long he was in the vestibule. All we
know is, he was not there when we came in, about eight o'clock," said
Mrs. Evans.
So she telephoned the police-stations, near by, and also asked the
morning papers to run a short notice under a suitable caption. Before
she had finished this work, however, Master Billy began his complaints
again, and now he was beginning to look as impatient as such a
good-natured baby could.
"Maybe he's hungry?" suddenly suggested Mrs. Stewart.
"That's just what ails him--but we haven't any bottle!" exclaimed Mrs.
Evans.
"Perhaps he drinks from a cup--he is old enough to have been weaned, you
know," ventured Mrs. Latimer.
A cup of warmed milk was brought in short order, and Mrs. Stewart held
it out to Anne, as she was still holding the baby. The moment Billy saw
the cup, he almost leaped from Anne's arms, and immediately began
gurgling for very glee.
Everyone laughed at his antics, and Anne was about to hold the cup to
his lips, when two fat hands clutched at it in a hungry endeavor to
reach the contents. Of course, part of the milk spilled on his nightie
but the remainder he drank greedily.
"He's well-trained--whoever he is. I should say that he has had every
attention in the past, to have him act like this at his age," said Mrs.
Latimer.
"But we don't know how old he is. He may be months older than we thought
for," argued Mrs. Evans.
"Well, he isn't more than eighteen months at the most," declared Mrs.
Stewart.
Polly and Eleanor stood silently by listening to these experienced
mothers, but Anne smiled indulgently at them, and kept her opinions to
herself.
Dr. Evans and Mr. Latimer stopped for their wives, and when they had
heard and been shown the fine boy, they gave their masculine opinions.
"A baby who was boarded out, and the parents hadn't paid up recently. So
the woman left him on the first door-step to get rid of him," was the
doctor's verdict.
"There spoke the doctor who knows of such cases," said Anne.
"That isn't it, however," remarked Mr. Latimer. "I am of the opinion
that this child is of wealthy parentage. He likely is a stumbling-block
for some heirs, who wish him safely out of the way so they may claim the
estate."
Anne laughed again. "There speaks the attorney. But you should have had
the jealous heirs remove this monogramed locket before they tried to get
rid of all evidence of a barrier to their inheritance."
"Reckon we'd better stop romancing and put Billy to bed," said Polly, in
a matter-of-fact voice.
Her common sense caused a general laugh, and Dr. Evans added: "Well,
ladies! Come on, if we are to get home to-night."
With a last look at the sleepy cherub, and a good-night to the friends
living in the Studio, the four New Yorkers went out.
"Where shall he sleep to-night?" asked Anne.
"Let me have him?" cried Polly.
"Oh--I found him first--let me have him," begged Eleanor.
"No, girls; babies should sleep absolutely alone. I will get a drawer
from the high-boy and rig him up a nice little bed therein. To-morrow
night he will be in his own home, most likely," explained Mrs. Stewart.
So saying, she hurried upstairs, and in a short time returned, carrying
the drawer. Anne and the two girls helped cushion it softly, and then
they placed Billy in it.
He was asleep almost before the bed was ready, and the moment his head
sank into the soft pillow, he closed his eyes.
"He seems unusually good, Anne," ventured Mrs. Stewart, as the four
foster mothers stood gazing down at the flushed little baby-face.
"And very pretty for a young child," added Anne.
"Well," sighed Polly, "I suppose we'll have to hand him back in the
morning."
"Some time during the night, most likely," grumbled Eleanor. "The police
will tell his folks where he is, and they will be at our door ten
minutes later."
But no one called for Billy, that night, and in the morning the papers
told the story of the foundling. A minute description of his appearance
and clothing was given, and the telephone number of the family where he
was to be found. Mrs. Evans had wisely refrained from giving any names
of the tenants of the Studio.
Before seven o'clock that morning, the telephone began ringing. Anne
answered it, but described the baby left on their door-step differently
from what the anxious mother on the other end of the wire had expected.
By eight-thirty, the telephone had called Anne or Polly five times. At
last Polly said: "My goodness! how can five mothers lose boys like ours
in one evening? Can't they take care of them?"
Eleanor then said, "Why, in Chicago, there are records of more than a
score of babies lost every day. Most of them find their parents again,
but lots of them don't."
"What happens to the poor tots who can't find their folks again?" asked
Polly, horrified.
"They go to the orphan asylum--or the Children's Home."
With a gasp, Polly glanced at their laughing little Billy. Then she
looked anxiously at her three companions. They had all thought of the
same thing, it seems.
"I just couldn't let him go to a foundling home," Polly whimpered.
"We can afford to keep him, Polly. You and I can adopt him," declared
Eleanor.
But Anne did not seem to approve of the plan. She shook her head as she
gazed at the curly-haired boy who was banging the breakfast table with a
teaspoon. "That would never do for you, girls."
But another ring on the telephone interrupted further argument on that
subject. Anne described Billy all over again--"Large brown eyes, very
soft silky hair--yellow and curly. About thirty pounds weight, eight
front teeth, aged about sixteen months."
Before she had completed her description of the foundling, the
distracted mother at the other end of the wire sighed: "He's not
mine--thank you."
"Polly and I are not going to school this morning, Anne," Eleanor now
informed the young teacher.
"I don't see why not?" demanded she.
"First, your mother can't be chasing back and forth to the 'phone all
day; and secondly, we do not propose having a stranger calling and
stealing our baby. Unless the parents present perfectly satisfactory
evidence that Billy is theirs, no one shall get him."
Anne smiled, but seeing that it was almost nine o'clock, she consented
to the two girls remaining home that session; furthermore, she promised
to explain to Mrs. Wellington about the magnet that had kept them at
home.
Later in the morning, Dr. Evans stopped in to see if any one had called
for the baby. Polly and Eleanor were in the midst of giving Billy his
bath in the large tub. Such laughing and shouting had never been heard
in that bathroom before. Even Mrs. Stewart laughed in sympathy, as she
told the doctor what a fine well-behaved child Billy was.
"I'll call again this evening, Mrs. Stewart. If he has not been claimed
by that time, I will see what I can do to relieve you of his care."
"Oh--he is no care whatever, doctor; and I doubt whether the girls will
consent to your taking him to a home--for a few days, at any rate. They
think someone will call for him."
"But you haven't any clothes or other necessities for him, have you?"
asked the doctor.
"We didn't have at first, but Nolla and Polly ran to a department store
on Fifth avenue--it's only a few blocks over, you know,--and bought him
everything he needs. When he had his shoes on he stood up and began
walking about while he held fast to the chairs. He certainly is a bright
child."
"Well, the girls ought not to go silly over him. Buying clothes and
shoes and everything--until they know who he is."
"If no one ever calls, Billy has to have clothes; anyway, we thought we
ought to get them, now, instead of later."
"I can see, Mrs. Stewart, that you are as foolish about the baby, as the
two girls are themselves," laughed Dr. Evans, as he took up his hat to
depart.
Mrs. Stewart laughed, but the moment the doctor was out of the front
door, she hurried upstairs to help dress the boy after his bath.
Once he was dressed in his new clothing, and had had a full cup of warm
milk and gruel, he cuddled down for his nap.
"Now, no use talking! he is a wonder!" declared Eleanor.
"We can keep him, as well as not. He isn't one mite of trouble," added
Polly.
Having waited until Billy was fast asleep, Mrs. Stewart tip-toed from
the bedroom, beckoning the girls to follow her out.
The police-department had sent their detective to get all the facts from
Eleanor and Polly, and the press had sent to find out if there was any
other clue or information about the boy; then, no further interruptions
took place that day.
The two girls sat out under the locust tree in the yard, because there
they could hear the first whimper from Billy, when he awoke from his
nap. As they sat there, they discussed his future.
"If no one ever calls for him, what _shall_ we do with him?' asked
Polly, giving Eleanor a penetrating look.
"You've got something on your mind--what is it?" countered Eleanor.
"Yes, I have, but I want to hear what _you_ have to say."
"I'd love to keep him, Polly--at least as long as we are in New York. I
suppose it would be impossible to take him abroad with us, next summer,"
returned Eleanor.
"Yes--impossible. And if we keep him with us, we will have to hire a
nurse-maid, as poor Mrs. Stewart can't look after a lively youngster all
day, while we are at school."
"What was your idea, then?" wondered Eleanor.
"Can't you guess, Nolla? And his name is Billy, too!"
For an instant Eleanor's face looked too surprised to allow her to
speak. Then she stammered: "Well--of all things!"
"What do you make of it?" laughed Polly.
"Wonderful--but what is your plan?"
"Seeing his name is Billy, and his eyes are dark brown and his hair
golden curls, and he is about sixteen months old--all of which are in
his favor to advance my little scheme, I should say that we try to keep
him a few weeks, right now, and see if we can add to Billy's winsome
ways. Meanwhile, we will use every effort to find if he has any
relatives; then should he be a veritable foundling, we will present him
to dear Mr. Dalken for his very own."
"Splendiferous! Perfectly great!" cried Eleanor, slapping her friend on
the back in her delight.
"We will quietly advertise for and select a fine elderly nurse for
Billy, right off, and when we have him all ready to be given away, he
will be a little wonder that no one can refuse."
"Oh, Mr. Dalken won't think of refusing him, I know! He will be so happy
to have a boy again," Eleanor said, enthusiastically.
Several times during the day, the telephone rang and someone asked for a
description of the baby. Also a number of wild looking people called at
the address to have a look at the child, but all departed with forlorn
hopes.
As that night was not a class-evening, the girls were free to do as they
liked with their time. Anne and her mother were amusing themselves, as
much as the baby, by teaching him to say 'Billy.' Polly and Eleanor were
eagerly watching results. But harshly upon this sweet scene, the
door-bell jangled.
"I'll go!" called Eleanor, and in another minute she had opened the
door.
"Oh, Mr. Fabian. Do come in and see our baby!"
Then another admirer joined the circle of worshippers around Billy's
feet. Mr. Fabian had heard the story from Dr. Evans and dropped in to
see if the boy was still with his friends.
"He is a dear little shaver, isn't he?" laughed Mr. Fabian. "But what
will you do with him if no one claims him?"
"We really haven't thought of that," said Anne.
"I'm afraid, if we keep him here with us a week, or more, we won't want
to give him up again," added Mrs. Stewart.
Mr. Fabian saw, from the corner of his eye, that Polly was behind him
trying to draw his attention. So he managed to turn his head without
attracting Anne's or Mrs. Stewart's attention, and saw the two girls
shake their heads wisely, meantime their fingers rested upon their lips
in sign of keeping silence.
Consequently no more was said, that evening, about Billy, and when Mr.
Fabian was ready to leave, Polly and Eleanor said they believed they
would walk to the corner with their old friend. The baby had been in bed
for some time, and Anne was busy writing manuscript, so no one objected
to the proposal. Mrs. Stewart merely remarked: "Don't go any farther
than the corner, dearies. And hurry right back home."