ROSABEL
"Rosabel who?" exclaimed Nan, as Patty came up on the verandah with the
baby in her arms.
"I don't know, I'm sure. You may call her Rosabel anything you like. We
picked her up by the wayside."
"Yes," said Dick Phelps, who had followed Patty up the steps. "Miss
Rosabel seemed lonely without anyone to talk to, so we brought her back
here to visit you."
"You must be crazy!" cried Nan, "but what a cunning baby it is! Let me
take her."
Nan took the good-natured little midget and sat down in a verandah
rocker, with the baby in her arms.
"Tell a straight story, Patty," said her father, "is it one of the
neighbour's children, or did you kidnap it?"
"Neither," said Patty, turning to her father; "we found the baby lying
right near the edge of a wood, in plain sight from the road. And there
was nobody around, and Papa, I just know that the child's wretch of a
mother deserted it, and left it there to die!"
"Nonsense," said her father. "Mothers don't leave their little ones
around as carelessly as that."
"Well, what else could it be?" said Patty. "There was the baby all alone,
smiling and talking to herself, and no one anywhere near, although we
waited for some time."
"It does seem strange," said Mr. Fairfield, "perhaps the mother did mean
to desert the child, but if so, she was probably peeping from some
hiding-place, to make sure that she approved of the people who took it."
"Well," said Mr. Phelps, "she evidently thought we were all right; at any
rate she made no objection."
"But isn't it awful," said Nan, "to think of anybody deserting a dear
little thing like this. Why, the wild animals might have eaten her up."
"Of course they might," said Mr. Phelps, gravely, "the tigers and wolves
that abound on Long Island are of the most ferocious type."
"Well, anyway," said Patty, "something dreadful might have happened to
her."
"It may yet," said Mr. Phelps cheerfully, "when we take her back
to-morrow and put her in the place we found her. For I don't suppose you
intend to keep Miss Rosabel, do you?"
"I don't know," said Patty, "but I know one thing, we certainly won't put
her back where we found her. What shall we do with her, Papa?"
"I don't know, my child, she's your find, and I suppose it's a case of
'findings is keepings.'"
"Of course we can't keep her," said Patty, "how ridiculous! We'll have to
put her in an orphan asylum or something like that."
"It's a shame," said Nan, "to put this dear little mite in a horrid old
asylum. I think I shall adopt her myself."
Little Rosabel had begun to grow restless, and suddenly without a word of
warning she began to cry lustily, and not a quiet well-conducted cry
either, but with ear-splitting shrieks and yells, indicative of great
discomfort of some sort.
"I've changed my mind," said Nan, abruptly. "I don't want to adopt any
such noisy young person as that. Here, take her, Patty, she's your
property."
Patty took the baby, and carried her into the house, fearing that
passers-by would think they must be torturing the child to make her
scream like that.
Into the dining-room went Patty, and on to the kitchen, where she
announced to the astonished cook that she wanted some milk for the baby
and she wanted it quick.
"Is there company for dinner, Miss Patty?" asked the cook, not
understanding how a baby could have arrived as an only guest.
"Only this one," said Patty, laughing, "what do you think she ought to
eat?"
"Bread and milk," said the cook, looking at the child with a judicial
air.
"All right, Kate, fix her some, won't you?"
In a few moments Patty was feeding Rosabel bread and milk, which the
child ate eagerly.
Impelled by curiosity, Nan came tip-toeing to the kitchen, followed by
the two men.
"I thought she must be asleep," said Nan, "as the concert seems to have
stopped."
"Not at all," said Patty, calmly, "she was only hungry, and the fact
seemed to occur to her somewhat suddenly."
Little Rosabel, all smiles again, looked up from her supper with such
bewitching glances that Nan cried out, "Oh, she is a darling! Let me help
you feed her, Patty."
In fact they all succumbed to the charm of their uninvited guest. During
dinner Rosabel sat at the table, in a chair filled with pillows, and was
made happy by being given many dainty bits of various delicacies, until
Nan declared the child would certainly be ill.
"I don't believe she is more than a year old," said Nan, "and she's
probably unaccustomed to those rich cakes and bonbons."
"I think she's more than a year," said Patty, sagely, "and anyway, I want
her to have a good time for once."
"She seems to be having the time of her life," said Dick Phelps, as he
watched the baby, who with a macaroon in one hand, and some candied
cherries in the other, was smiling impartially on them all.
"She's not much of a conversationalist," remarked Mr. Fairfield.
"Give her time," said Patty, "she feels a little strange at first."
"Yes," said Mr. Phelps, "I think after two or three years she'll be much
more talkative."
"Well, there's one thing certain," said Patty, "she'll have to stay here
to-night, whatever we do with her to-morrow."
[Illustration: "In a few minutes Patty was feeding Rosabel bread
and milk"]
After dinner they took their new toy with them to the parlour, and Miss
Rosabel treated them all to a few more winning smiles, and then quietly,
but very decidedly fell asleep in Patty's arms.
"I can't help admiring her decision of character," said Patty, as she
shook the baby to make her awaken, but without success.
"Don't wake her up," said Nan. "Come, Patty, we'll take her upstairs, and
put her to bed somewhere."
This feat being accomplished, Nan and Patty rejoined the men, who sat
smoking on the front verandah.
"Now," said Patty, "we really must decide what we're going to do with
that infant; for I warn you, Papa Fairfield, that if we keep that dear
baby around much longer, I shall become so attached to her that I can't
give her up."
"Of course," said Mr. Fairfield, "she must be turned over to the
authorities. I'll attend to it the first thing in the morning."
A little later Mr. Fairfield and Nan strolled down the road to make a
call on a neighbour, and Patty and Dick Phelps remained at home.
Patty had declared she wouldn't leave the house lest Rosabel should waken
and cry out, so promising to make but a short call, Mr. Fairfield and Nan
went away.
Soon after they had gone, a strange young man came walking toward the
house. He turned in at the gate and approached the front steps.
"Is this Mr. Richard Phelps?" he asked, addressing himself to Dick.
"It is; what can I do for you?"
"Do you own a large black racing automobile?"
"Yes," replied Mr. Phelps.
"And were you out in it this afternoon," continued the stranger, "driving
rapidly between here and North Point?"
"Yes," said Mr. Phelps again, wondering what was the intent of this
peculiar interview.
"Then you're the man I'm after," declared the stranger, "and I'm obliged
to tell you, sir, that you are under arrest."
"For what offence?" enquired Mr. Phelps, rather amused at what he
considered a good joke, and thinking that it must be a case of mistaken
identity somehow.
"For kidnapping little Mary Brown," was the astonishing reply.
"Why, we didn't kidnap her at all!" exclaimed Patty, breaking into the
conversation. "The idea, to think we would kidnap a baby! and anyway her
name isn't Mary, it's Rosabel."
"Then you know where the child is, Miss," said the man, turning to Patty.
"Of course I do," said Patty, "she's upstairs asleep. But it isn't Mary
Brown at all. It's Rosabel,--I don't know what her last name is."
Mr. Phelps began to be interested.
"What makes you think we kidnapped a baby, my friend?" he said to their
visitor.
The man looked as if he had begun to think there must be a mistake
somewhere. "Why, you see, sir," he said, "Mrs. Brown, she's just about
crazy. Her little girl, Sarah, went out into the woods this afternoon,
and took the baby, Mary, with her. The baby went to sleep, and Sarah left
it lying on a blanket under a tree, while she roamed around the wood
picking blueberries. Somehow she strayed away farther than she intended
and lost her way. When she finally managed to get back to the place where
she left the baby, the child was gone, and she says she could see a large
automobile going swiftly away, and the lady who sat in the front seat was
holding little Mary. Sarah screamed, and called after you, but the car
only went on more and more rapidly, and was soon lost to sight. I'm a
detective, sir, and I looked carefully at the wheel tracks in the dust,
and I asked a few questions here and there, and I hit upon some several
clues, and here I am. Now I'd like you to explain, sir, if you didn't
kidnap that child, what you do call it?"
"Why, it was a rescue," cried Patty, indignantly, without giving Mr.
Phelps time to reply. "The dear little baby was all alone in the wood,
and anything might have happened to her. Her mother had no business to
let her be taken care of by a sister that couldn't take care of her any
better than that! We waited for some time, and nobody appeared, so we
picked up the child and brought her home, rather than leave her there
alone. But I don't believe it's the child you're after anyway, for the
name Rosabel is embroidered on the blanket."
"It is the same child, Miss," said the man, who somehow seemed a little
crestfallen because his kidnapping case proved to be only in his own
imagination. "Mrs. Brown described to me the clothes the baby wore, and
she said that blanket was given to her by a rich lady who had a little
girl named Rosabel. The Browns are poor people, ma'am, and the mother is
a hard-working woman, and she's nearly crazed with grief about the baby."
"I should think she would be," said Patty, whose quick sympathies had
already flown to the sorrowing mother. "She oughtn't to have left an
irresponsible child in charge of the little thing. But it's dreadful to
think how anxious she must be! Now I'll tell you what we'll do; Mr.
Phelps, if you'll get out your car, I'll just bundle that child up and
we'll take her right straight back home to her mother. We'll stop at the
Ripleys' for Papa and Nan, and we'll all go over together. It's a lovely
moonlight night for a drive, anyway, and even if it were pitch dark, or
pouring in torrents, I should want to get that baby back to her mother
just as quickly as possible. I don't wonder the poor woman is
distracted."
"Very well," said Mr. Phelps, who would have driven his car to Kamschatka
if Patty had asked him to, "and we'll take this gentleman along with us,
to direct us to Mrs. Brown's."
Mr. Phelps went for his car, and Patty flew to bundle up the baby. She
did not dress the child, but wrapped her in a warm blanket, and then in a
fur-lined cape of her own. Then making a bundle of the baby's clothes,
she presented herself at the door, just as Mr. Phelps drove up with his
splendid great car shining in the moonlight.
A few moments' pause was sufficient to gather in Mr. and Mrs. Fairfield,
and away they all flew through the night, to Mrs. Brown's humble cottage.
They found the poor woman not only grieving about the loss of her child,
but angry and revengeful against the lady and gentleman in the motor-car,
who, she thought, had stolen it.
And so when the car stopped in front of her door, she came running out
followed by her husband and several children.
Little Sarah recognised the car, which was unusual in size and shape, and
cried out, "That's the one, that's the one, mother! and those are the
people who stole Mary!"
But the young detective, whose name was Mr. Faulks, sprang out of the car
and began to explain matters to the astonished family. Then Patty handed
out the baby, and the grief of the Browns was quickly turned to
rejoicing, mingled with apologies.
Mr. Fairfield explained further to the somewhat bewildered mother, and
leaving with her a substantial present of money as an evidence of good
faith in the matter, he returned to his place in the car, and in a moment
they were whizzing back toward home.
"I'm glad it all turned out right," said Patty with a sigh, "but I do
wish that pretty baby had been named Rosabel instead of Mary. It really
would have suited her a great deal better."