AN ICEBOX FOR CHERUBIM
As we have seen, when Maxwell began his work in Durford, he was full
of the enthusiasm of youth and inexperience. He was, however, heartily
supported and encouraged in his efforts by all but Sylvester Bascom.
Without being actively and openly hostile, the Senior Warden, under
the guise of superior wisdom and a judicial regard for expediency,
managed to thwart many of his projects. After each interview with
Bascom, Maxwell felt that every bit of life and heart had been pumped
out of him, and that he was very young, and very foolish to attempt
to make any change in "the good old ways" of the parish, which for so
many years had stunted its growth and had acquired the immobility of
the laws of the Medes and Persians.
But there was one parishioner who was ever ready to suggest new
ventures to "elevate" the people, and to play the part of intimate
friend and adviser to her good-looking rector, and that was Virginia
Bascom. For some unknown reason "the people" did not seem to be
acutely anxious thus to be elevated; and most of them seemed to regard
Virginia as a harmless idiot with good intentions, but with positive
genius for meddling in other people's affairs. Being the only daughter
of the Senior Warden, and the leading lady from a social standpoint,
she considered that she had a roving commission to set people right at
a moment's notice; and there were comparatively few people in Durford
on whom she had not experimented in one way or another. She organized
a Browning club to keep the factory girls out of the streets evenings,
a mothers' meeting, an ethical culture society, and a craftman's club,
and, as she was made president of each, her time was quite well
filled.
And now in her fertile brain dawned a brilliant idea, which she
proceeded to propound to the rector. Maxwell was non-committal, for
he felt the matter was one for feminine judgment. Then she decided to
consult Mrs. Burke--because, while Hepsey was "not in society," she
was recognized as the dominant personality among the women of the
village, and no parish enterprise amounted to much unless she approved
of it, and was gracious enough to assist. As Virginia told Maxwell,
"Mrs. Burke has a talent of persuasiveness," and so was "useful in any
emergency." If Mrs. Burke's sympathies could be enlisted on behalf of
the new scheme it would be bound to succeed.
As a matter of fact, Mrs. Burke had heard rumors of this new project
of Virginia's. It always went against the grain with Hepsey to say:
"Don't do it." She was a firm believer in the teaching of experience:
"Experience does it," was her translation of the classic adage.
And so one morning found Virginia sitting opposite Mrs. Burke in the
kitchen at Thunder Cliff, knitting her brows and poking the toe of her
boot with the end of her parasol in an absent-minded way. This was
symptomatic.
"Anything on your mind, Virginia? What's up now?" Mrs. Burke began.
For a moment Virginia hesitated, and then replied:
"I am thinking of establishing a day-nursery to care for the babies of
working women, Mrs. Burke."
Mrs. Burke, with hands on her hips, gazed intently at her visitor,
pushed up her under lip, scowled, and then observed thoughtfully:
"I wonder some one hasn't thought of that before. Who's to take care
of the babies?"
"Mary Quinn and I, with the assistance of others, of course."
"Are you sure that you know which is the business end of a
nursing-bottle? Could you put a safety-pin where it would do the most
good? Could you wash a baby without drownin' it?"
"Of course I have not had much experience," Virginia replied in a
dignified and lofty way, "but Mary Quinn has, and she could teach
me."
"You're thinkin', I suppose, that a day-nursery would fill a long-felt
want, or somethin' like that. Who's goin' to pay the bills?"
"Oh, there ought to be enough progressive, philanthropic people in
Durford to subscribe the necessary funds, you know. It is to be an
auxiliary to the parish work."
"Hm! What does Mr. Maxwell say?"
"Well, he said that he supposed that babies were good things in their
way; but he hadn't seen many in the village, and he didn't quite
realize what help a day-nursery would be to the working women."
"That doesn't sound mighty enthusiastic. Maybe we might get the money;
but who's to subscribe the babies?"
"Why, the working women, of course."
"They can't subscribe 'em if they haven't got 'em. There are mighty
few kids in this town; and if you really want my candid opinion, I
don't think Durford needs a day-nursery any more than it needs an
icebox for cherubim. But then of course that doesn't matter much. When
you goin' to begin?"
"Next Monday. We have rented the store where Elkin's grocery used to
be, and we are going to fit it up with cribs, and all the most
up-to-date conveniences for a sanitary day-nursery."
"Hm! Well, I'll do all I can to help you, of course. I suppose you'll
find babies pushin' all over the sidewalk Monday mornin', comin' early
to avoid the rush. Better get down as early as possible, Virginia."
Virginia departed.
After the furnishing of the incipient nursery had been completed, and
each little crib had a new unbreakable doll whose cheeks were
decorated with unsuckable paint, Virginia and Mary Quinn--invaluable
in undertaking the spadework of all Virginia's parish exploits--gave
an afternoon tea to which all the subscribers and their friends were
invited. But when everything was in readiness for patronage, what few
working women there were in Durford, possessed of the right kind of
babies, seemed strangely reluctant to trust their youthful offspring
to the tender mercies of Virginia Bascom and Mary Quinn.
Consequently, the philanthropic movement, started under such favorable
patronage, soon reached a critical stage in its career, and Mrs. Burke
was called in to contribute some practical suggestions. She responded
to the summons with all due promptness, and when she arrived at the
nursery, she smilingly remarked:
"Hm! But where are the babies? I thought they would be swarming all
over the place like tadpoles in a pool."
"Well, you see," Virginia began, her voice quivering with
disappointment, "Mary Quinn and I have been sitting here four mortal
days, and not a single infant has appeared on the scene. I must say
that the working women of Durford seem strangely unappreciative of our
efforts to help them."
"Well," Mrs. Burke responded, "I suppose day-nurseries without babies
are as incomplete as an incubator without eggs. But after all, it
hardly seems worth while to go out and snatch nursing infants from
their mother's breasts just to fill a long-felt want, does it?
Besides, you might get yourself into trouble."
"I didn't ask you to come and make fun of me," Virginia replied
touchily. "I wanted you to make some suggestions to help us out. If we
don't get any babies, we might just as well close our doors at once. I
should be awfully mortified to have the whole thing a failure, after
all we have done, and all the advertising we have had."
Mrs. Burke sat down and assumed a very judicial expression.
"Well, Ginty dear, I'm awful sorry for you; I don't doubt you done the
best you could. It'd be unreasonable to expect you to collect babies
like mushrooms in a single night. All true reformers are bound to
strike snags, and to suffer because they aint appreciated in their own
day and generation. It's only after we are gone and others take our
places that the things we do are appreciated. You'll have to resign
yourself to fate, Virginia, and wait for what the newspapers call 'the
vindicatin' verdict of prosperity.' Think of all the people that tried
to do things and didn't do 'em. Now there's the Christian
martyrs----"
For some reason Virginia seemed to have a vague suspicion that Hepsey
was still making fun of her; and being considerably nettled, she
interjected tartly:
"I'm not working for the verdict of posterity, and I don't care a flip
for the Christian martyrs. I'm trying to conduct a day-nursery, here
and now; we have the beds, and the equipment, and some money,
and----"
"But you haven't got the babies, Virginia!"
"Precisely, Mrs. Burke. It's simply a question of babies, now or
never. Babies we must have or close our doors. I must confess that I
am greatly pained at the lack of interest of the community in our
humble efforts to serve them."
For some time Hepsey sat in silence; then she smiled as if a bright
idea occurred to her.
"Why not borrow a few babies from the mothers in town, Virginia? You
see, you might offer to pay a small rental by the hour, or take out a
lease which could be renewed when it expired. What is lacking is
public confidence in your enterprise. If you and Miss Quinn could be
seen in the nursery windows dandlin' a baby on each arm, and singin'
lullabies to 'em for a few days, it'd attract attention, inspire
faith in the timid, and public confidence would be restored. The tide
of babies'd turn your way after a while, and the nursery would prove a
howlin' success."
Virginia considered the suggestion and, after deep thought, remarked:
"What do you think we ought to pay for the loan of a baby per hour,
Mrs. Burke?"
"Well, of course I haven't had much experience rentin' babies, as I
have been busy payin' taxes and insurance on my own for some years;
then you see rents have gone up like everything lately. But I should
think that ten cents an afternoon ought to be sufficient. I think I
might be able to hunt up a baby or two. Mrs. Warren might lend her
baby, and perhaps Mrs. Fletcher might add her twins. I'll call on them
at once, if you say so."
Virginia looked relieved, and in a voice of gratitude responded:
"You are really very, very kind."
"Well, cheer up, Virginia; cheer up. Every cloud has its silver
linin'; and I guess we can find some babies somewhere even if we have
to advertise in the papers. Now I must be goin', and I'll stop on the
way and make a bid for the Fletcher twins. Good-by."
When Nicholas Burke learned from his mother of the quest of the
necessary babies, he started out of his own motion and was the first
to arrive on the scene with the spoils of victory, in the shape of the
eighteen-months infant of Mrs. Thomas McCarthy, for which he had been
obliged to pay twenty-five cents in advance, the infant protesting
vigorously with all the power of a well developed pair of lungs. As
Nickey delivered the goods, he remarked casually:
"Say, Miss Virginia, you just take the darn thing quick. He's been
howlin' to beat the band."
"Why, Nickey," exclaimed Virginia, entranced, and gingerly possessing
herself of James McCarthy, "however did you get him?"
"His ma wouldn't let me have him at first; and it took an awful lot of
jollyin' to bring her round. Of course I didn't mean to tell no lies,
but I said you was awful fond of kids. I said that if you only had
Jimmy, it would give the nursery a dandy send-off, 'cause she was so
well known, and Mr. McCarthy was such a prominent citizen. When she
saw me cough up a quarter and play with it right under her nose, I
could see she was givin' in; and she says to me, 'Nickey, you can take
him just this once. I'd like to help the good cause along, and Miss
Bascom, she means well.' Ma's gettin' after the Fletcher twins for
you."
James McCarthy was welcomed with open arms, was washed and dressed in
the most approved antiseptic manner; his gums were swabed with boracic
acid, and he was fed from a sterilized bottle on Pasteurized milk, and
tucked up in a crib with carbolized sheets, and placed close to the
window where he could bask in actinic rays, and inhale ozone to his
heart's content. Thus the passer-by could see at a glance that the
good work had begun to bear fruit.
Mrs. Burke managed to get hold of the Fletcher twins, and as they both
howled lustily in unison, all the time, they added much to the natural
domesticity of the scene and seemed to invite further patronage, like
barkers at a side-show. Mrs. Warren was also persuaded.
Although the village was thoroughly canvassed, Miss Bascom was obliged
to content herself with the McCarthy baby and the Fletcher twins, and
the Warren baby, until, one morning, a colored woman appeared with a
bundle in her arms. As she was the first voluntary contributor of live
stock, she was warmly welcomed, and a great fuss made over the tiny
black infant which gradually emerged from the folds of an old shawl
"like a cuckoo out of its cocoon," as Mary Quinn remarked. This, of
course, was very nice and encouraging, but most unfortunately, when
night came, the mother did not appear to claim her progeny, nor did
she ever turn up again. Of course it was a mere oversight on her part,
but Virginia was much disturbed, for, to her very great embarrassment,
she found herself the undisputed possessor of a coal black baby. She
was horrified beyond measure, and sent at once for Mrs. Burke.
"What shall I do, what shall I do, Mrs. Burke?" she cried. Mrs. Burke
gazed musingly at the writhing black blot on the white and rose
blanket, and suggested:
"Pity you couldn't adopt it, Virginia. You always loved children."
"Adopt it!" Virginia screamed hysterically. "What in the world can you
be thinking of?"
"Well, I can't think of anything else, unless I can persuade Andy
Johnston, the colored man on the farm, to adopt it. He wouldn't mind
its complexion as much as you seem to."
Virginia brightened considerably at this suggestion, exclaiming
excitedly:
"Oh Mrs. Burke, do you really think you could?"
"Well, I don't know. Perhaps so. At any rate, if we offer to help pay
the extra expense, Mrs. Johnston might bring the baby up as her own.
Then they can name it Virginia Bascom Johnston, you see."
Virginia bit her lip, but she managed to control her temper as she
exclaimed quite cheerfully:
"Mrs. Burke, you are so very kind. You are always helping somebody out
of a scrape."
"Don't overpraise me, Virginia. My head's easily turned. The teachin's
of experience are hard--but I guess they're best in the end. Well,
send the poor little imp of darkness round to me to-night, and I'll
see that it has good care."
As a matter of fact, Hepsey had qualms of conscience as to whether she
should not, at the outset, have discouraged the whole baby project;
experience threatened to give its lesson by pretty hard knocks, on
this occasion.
For though the immediate problem was thus easily solved, others
presented themselves to vex the philanthropic Virginia.
When on the tenth day the rental for the Warren baby and the Fletcher
twins fell due, and the lease of James McCarthy expired without
privilege of renewal, the finances of the nursery were at a very low
ebb. It certainly did not help matters much when, towards night, Mary
Quinn called Virginia's attention to the fact that there were
unmistakable signs of a bad rash on the faces of the twins, and very
suspicious spots on the cheeks of the Warren baby. Even the
antiseptic James McCarthy blushed like a boiled lobster, and went
hopelessly back on his sterilized character. Of course the only thing
to be done was to send at once for the doctor, and for the mothers of
the respective infants. When the doctor arrived he pronounced the
trouble to be measles; and when the mothers made their appearance,
Virginia learned something of the unsuspected resources of the English
language served hot from the tongues of three frightened and irate
women. Finally the floor was cleared, and the place closed up for
disinfection.
Just before she left, Virginia dropped into a chair and wept, quite
oblivious of the well-meant consolations of Mary Quinn, sometime
co-partner in "The Durford Day-Nursery for the Children of Working
Women."
"We've done the very best we could, Miss Bascom; and it certainly
isn't our fault that the venture turned out badly. Poor babies!"
At this the sobbing Virginia was roused to one last protest:
"Mary Quinn, if ever you say another word to me about babies, I'll
have you arrested. I just hate babies, and--and everything! Why, there
comes Mr. Maxwell! Say, Mary, you just run and get me a wet towel to
wipe my face with, while I hunt for my combs and do up my back hair.
And then if you wouldn't mind vanishing for a while--I'm sure you
understand--for if ever I needed spiritual consolation and the help of
the church, it is now, this minute."
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