IN PERPETUITY
"They shall be mine, saith the Lord of Hosts, in that Day when I make
up my jewels."--Malachi iii, 17
All the children joined in planning for that new Home. They talked
of it morning, noon and night. Harris Wayne consulted architects and
contractors. Surveyors came and went. Drawings were submitted and,
because the children were so deeply interested, these were patiently
explained to them. Competing architects and contractors came.
Consultations and conferences were continuous. Harris Wayne had
never been so busy in his life. And with it all he looked younger,
as if a load of care had been removed from his shoulders. He was
living now, to make others happy and the world a better place for
children to live in. He was completely absorbed and happier than he
had ever expected to be.
The project was not one that could be completed in a day, a week or
even a year. The scope and magnitude of the plans attracted
widespread attention. The story of the "sparrows" that flitted from
the Grimes baby farm and miraculously crossed the terrible swamps
under the leadership of a little girl with a baby on her back was
published all over the world. The home of which they would be the
first occupants became known as The Sparrows' Nest.
Mollie and the children became famous over night. Their exploits and
experiences were recounted in press, pulpit and club rooms. Tourists
came to the section for no other purpose than to visit the Grimes
place, greet Maria, now living there in peace and solitude, look at
the impassable bog over which the children did pass, then motor down
to view the progress being made in the erection of their new
habitation and to ask permission to contribute toward its maintenance.
Large sums of money poured in unsolicited. Some came from anonymous
donors. Some gave funds in memory of other little ones whose
memories they wished to perpetuate. Every train brought great sacks
of mail, every letter expressing the writer's interest in the
gigantic undertaking.
Contributions of all kinds were offered and some even sent without
previous notification. Furniture, clothing, food supplies, linens
and household appurtenances seemed to rain down upon the Wayne estate
months before the new building was even under roof.
Yet there had been no requests made, no agitation on the part of any
of the adults now aiding Wayne in pulling his experiment through to a
successful finish. It was all the result of one little girl's
heroism supplemented by the children's own enthusiasm over a home
that should be their very own, and to the graphic accounts they could
each give as to what sometimes happens to little children farmed out,
as they had been, to one so totally incapable of looking after their
well being as was Peter Grimes.
Mollie insisted upon a wonderful nursery with all kinds of toys.
Stephen helped plan the library and reading room. Johnnie, now that
his foot was being cured by means of braces, announced his intention
of becoming a doctor and wanted one wing of the building adapted to
surgical purposes so that one day he might help other children as he
had been helped. Each child gravitated naturally into the particular
sphere for which each was best adapted. The building of The
Sparrows' Nest, developed, automatically, into a school for
vocational training, so Wayne declared, when he espied one boy
devoting all his energy to aiding the carpenters, another to the
brick-layers and a third concentrating his attention upon the
plumbing arrangements.
Letters from parents and relatives of children asking to have them
granted admission to the Home arrived almost as quickly as did the
supplies with which to furnish it. Wayne had never imagined there
were so many uncared for and homeless little ones awaiting such a
shelter as was now going forward.
Former friends came to see him and looked at him curiously. He
informed them that he was having "the time of his life."
As for Mollie, she had not believed it possible that she could ever
be so happy. She was studying, too, at home, under competent
teachers as were the other children. She was making rapid progress.
No one, seeing her now would have believed that she was the same
ragged, mud-begrimed, barefoot and hungry-looking little girl who,
after emerging from the swamp had undertaken to run a launch down the
river.
Time came when The Sparrows' Nest was completed and the original
nestlings, clad in their neat, new uniforms, welcomed more people
than any of them had ever seen at one time. They sang a chorus they
had learned and Mollie, not in the least awed by the many curious
eyes turned upon her, delivered the little address she had rehearsed
for weeks. It was very brief and couched in perfect English. Harris
Wayne was proud of her. She would be an ornament to any home and
could mother as many children as would ever come within its doors.
His daughter worshipped her. Why, he asked himself, should he not?
She was fast growing up. She would soon be going away to a finishing
school, that she might later be fitted to accompany Doris on her
travels. When she returned he might--well, he would wait and see.
* * * * *
Time passed. The gigantic Sparrows' Nest was filled with little
ones. They were happy. They loved to sing. They were singing now.
Mollie heard them as she approached. Those blessed voices! To her
ears they had always been as the sound of heavenly music. How
sweetly the piping treble rang out on the balmy air. It mingled with
the songs of the birds in the trees and went upward on the breeze of
heaven, just as that kite had mounted upward in those dark days of
the past.
It was a past that was getting more and more remote. Wonderful
changes had come into all their lives. Everything had dated from
that day they had flown the kite. It had been a novel idea.
Childish, of course, but as an act of faith nothing could have been
more sincere. How miserable they all were that day--how desperate
she had been! She would have stormed a fortress, if there had been
one to storm. God had surely heard their prayers--those prayers of
little children!
Mollie smiled and sang softly to herself as she moved swiftly along
the driveway leading to the beautiful Home. Let's see, she
reflected. Just how many would it accommodate? Five--six hundred,
now that the east wing was completed. Splutters had not seen it yet.
He would be home soon for the holidays. How thrilled he would be.
He was growing tall, he had written. He would be taller than she
when they met again. She wondered if she would know him.
Just beyond towered the massive building, surrounded by broad
porches, sun parlors and gardens brilliant with flowers. Somewhere
there was a fountain playing. Children of all sizes were running
about the grounds.
A beautiful little girl with clustering curls and most alluring
dimples suddenly detached herself from the others and ran to meet
Mollie.
"Oh, Ma-Mollie!" she exclaimed, holding up her rosebud mouth for a
kiss. "Isn't it a beautiful home!"
"A home for little children is always a beautiful home if it is built
for their happiness," Mollie replied with an adoring look that
embraced the Home, the broad lawns and every child within sight or
hearing.
"And this," she said softly, half to herself and half to the child at
her side, "is the great good that came out of all our suffering."
For Mollie never forgot her wonderful experience that night in the
barn loft when the Good Shepherd walked among the children while they
slept and tenderly took one of them--the least one--into his arm. At
the recollection she raised her eyes to where, near the entrance to
this beautiful Home was a marble tablet on which were lettered the
words:
To
The Least-Ones
In Perpetuity.
--------------
ADDENDUM
Should it be suggested that the characters and incidents of this
story are exaggerated or improbable, it is only necessary to refer to
the newspapers of May 2nd, 1926, which published Associated Press
accounts of the living counterpart of Peter Grimes and pictures of
the children for whose care and maintenance he was paid by their
widowed mother.
That human counterpart of the ogre described in these pages did not
die in a bog. He was sentenced to die on May 11, 1926 for the murder
of one child and the mutilation of others. The verdict against him
was reached on the first ballot by a jury of mountaineers from his
own district and by whom, until his crimes were discovered, he had
for years been considered harmless. The only reason why he did not
conceal the evidence of his crimes in a bog was because there
happened to be no bog on his premises.