BABY MAY
Bert Bobbsey did not go back to bed right away. Instead, he remained in
the upper hall, listening.
“Did you hear that, Mother?” he asked, in a low voice.
“You mean that noise at the back door?”
“Yes. I wonder—”
Nan came tiptoeing out of her room.
“What is it?” she whispered. “What is the bell ringing for, and—”
“Hush!” cautioned Bert.
Then their fears came to a sudden end, for the voice of Mr. Bobbsey was
heard in the kitchen asking:
“Where are you, Mary? I forgot my front-door key, and came in the back
way.”
“I didn’t know the back door was open,” remarked Mrs. Bobbsey, while
Bert, no longer worried, said to Nan:
“It’s all right. It’s dad. I’m going back to bed.”
“Oh,” said Nan. “All right!”
The two older Bobbsey twins went to their rooms. Flossie and Freddie had
gone back to their beds and were now slumbering peacefully, lulled by
the patter of rain drops.
“How did you get in the back door if it was locked?” asked Mrs. Bobbsey
of her husband, as he took off his dripping rubber coat.
“I always leave an extra back-door key out over the side window ledge,”
he answered, “so if I forget my latch key I can get in. That’s what I
did to-night. But what were you doing in the front hall?” he asked.
“The front doorbell rang,” his wife replied. “Was it you ringing it?”
she went on quickly.
“I ring the front doorbell? No,” Mr. Bobbsey answered. “I thought you
might be asleep and I didn’t want to disturb you. So when I felt in my
pocket and found I hadn’t my key—on account of changing my wet trousers
for dry ones before supper—I just went to the back door and let myself
in.”
“It’s very strange,” said Mrs. Bobbsey, listening to make sure that none
of the twins was stirring upstairs.
“What is strange?”
“The way the front doorbell rang. Twice! And each time I looked out I
saw no one. If you didn’t ring it, who did?”
“Perhaps you heard something rattling because of the heavy thunder,”
suggested Mr. Bobbsey. “The knives and forks in the pantry, maybe.”
“No, it was the bell,” his wife insisted. “The children heard it
upstairs and came out in their nighties.”
“Um!” mused Mr. Bobbsey. “I’ll take a look out myself. It couldn’t be
any boys playing pranks on a night like this, could it?”
“Hardly, I should think,” his wife said. “But the bell certainly rang.”
Mr. Bobbsey looked through the glass of the door—he did not open it
because the rain would have blown in—but he came out of the hall, as
his wife had done, without having seen any one.
“No one there,” he said.
“Could the lightning have made the bell ring? You know it’s an electric
bell,” suggested Mrs. Bobbsey. “Bert said it might do it.”
“Perhaps,” admitted her husband. “I’ll take a look at the bell in the
morning. It may be that it is so sensitive that the least jar of thunder
will make it ring.”
“Did you save the lumber?” his wife asked.
“All but a few planks that got away from us. The river and lake are very
high. We’ve had a lot of rain this spring. Now I think I’ll eat
something and go to bed. Looks as if the rain would keep up into May.”
“That’s right,” agreed the twins’ mother. “To-morrow is the first of
May, isn’t it?”
Her husband nodded as he sat down to a lunch she made ready for him.
It was still raining when Mr. and Mrs. Bobbsey went to bed. But it
stopped some time during the night, and when the Bobbsey twins awakened
in the morning the sun was shining bright and warm.
“Hurray!” cried Bert, as he looked from his window. “It’s cleared off!”
“And there’s a big lake in the back lot!” shouted Freddie. “I can see it
from my window.”
“We’ll sail boats there after school,” decided Bert, as he began to
dress.
“Maybe we can make a raft and ride on it,” proposed Freddie.
“May I have a ride?” begged Flossie. “You wouldn’t let me ride on the
elevated railroad. Will you let me ride on the raft?”
“It isn’t made yet!” laughed Bert. “We’ll see about it after school.”
“It’s going to be a lovely day after the rain,” said Nan, as she went
downstairs.
“Come, children, get your breakfast and be ready for school,” called
Mrs. Bobbsey. “I guess you won’t need to take umbrellas to-day,” she
added, with a laugh. “I never saw the sun so bright.”
“This will soon dry up the puddles,” observed Mr. Bobbsey.
“I hope it doesn’t dry ’em all up,” ventured Bert. “We want to have some
fun in the back lots.” Near the Bobbsey home were vacant lots that
sometimes filled with rain water and became miniature lakes.
As Nan sat down to breakfast she suddenly looked up and exclaimed:
“Hark!”
“What’s the matter?” mumbled Bert, his mouth half full of bread. “Do you
think it’s thundering again?”
“No! But I thought I heard a cat crying,” answered Nan. “Listen!”
They all kept quiet.
Then, faintly, came a little wailing cry.
“Oh, it’s a kittie!” exclaimed Flossie. “It’s a kittie on the back
steps! I’m going to get it!”
She began to get down from her chair.
“That cry came from the front door,” said Bert.
“I think so,” agreed his father.
“It does sound like a cat,” said Mrs. Bobbsey. “Perhaps some one’s pet
wandered away in the storm last night. But I don’t believe it rang the
doorbell,” she added, with a faint smile.
“No, that was the lightning,” insisted Bert.
Nan had hurried to the front of the house. They heard her open the door,
and the next moment she uttered a startled cry—almost a cry of alarm.
“What is it?” called Mrs. Bobbsey. “What is it, Nan?”
“Oh, Mother, come quick!” exclaimed Nan. “There’s a basket here! A
basket—and it has—it has a baby in it! Oh, a little baby!”
The other Bobbsey twins hurried to the front door, followed by their
father and mother. They saw Nan bending over a large, square, market
basket that rested in the shelter of the doorway, off to one side.
Nan had folded back the heavy cloth cover of the basket. And there,
nestled in a warm blanket and looking up at the Bobbseys, was a dear,
sweet, cute, little baby, about a year old. It had blue eyes, golden
curls, and as it kicked its tiny feet and moved its tiny hands it smiled
up at the faces bending over it.
“Oh, my goodness! A baby! A darling baby!” gasped Mrs. Bobbsey.
“Whose is it?” asked Mr. Bobbsey. “Some one must have lost it!”
“They don’t _lose_ babies!” declared his wife. “It was _left_ here!”
“Left here! On purpose, do you mean?” cried her husband.
Mrs. Bobbsey nodded her head solemnly. Nan had stooped over and was
lifting the tiny creature from its nest in the basket.
“Oh, Mother! may we keep it?” begged Flossie.
“Is it a boy or a girl?” demanded Freddie. “If it’s a boy, keep it!”
“Bring it in, Nan,” said Mrs. Bobbsey. “The poor little dear! It must be
almost perished with the cold—and hungry, too! Tell Dinah to warm some
milk. Oh, what a darling child!”
She leaned over and kissed the soft, roselike cheek as the baby nestled
in the warm blankets on Nan’s arm.
“Hum! A _baby_! I thought it was going to be a _cat_!” murmured Bert, as
he picked up the basket. “Say!” he cried suddenly. “Look here! I know
this basket!”
“You do?” exclaimed his father, with much interest.
“Yes. Look, Nan! It’s the basket the queer old lady with the green
umbrella was carrying in the storm yesterday afternoon.”
“So it is,” agreed Nan. “Oh, Mother! what does it mean?”
“I don’t know,” was the answer, “except that it seems to mean some one
has abandoned this baby. Oh, it’s so sweet—a regular doll! Dinah, hurry
with that warm milk!”
“Yes’m! Ah’s a hurryin, as fast as Ah kin! Oh, fo’ de landest sakes! A
honey lamb baby! Oh, mah goodness! who done left it yeah?”
“That’s what we don’t know, Dinah. Nan found it on the steps.”
“I thought it was a kitten,” said Nan, as she gave the baby to her
mother.
“Has it got a name?” asked Freddie.
“Of course not—at least, it probably has, but we don’t know it,” said
his mother. “Oh, you sweet baby!” and she cuddled it to her breast.
“This must be looked into,” said Mr. Bobbsey. “Take good care of that
basket and everything in it. It’s an abandoned baby, all right. And are
you sure this basket was the one the strange old lady had?”
“Sure,” declared Bert.
“And she had a green umbrella and a faded shawl,” added Nan.
“Hum! The police ought to be able to trace her through that
description,” said Mr. Bobbsey.
“Are you going to have the baby arrested?” demanded Flossie. “I think
that’s mean!” and she looked sharply at her father.
“Oh, no; of course not, my dear!” said Mrs. Bobbsey. “Daddy means the
police must try to find to whom the baby belongs. I can’t imagine how
any mother could desert it, though. Oh, you little darling!” she
murmured, as the baby smiled up at her. “It’s a dear little girl,” she
added.
“Then I know a good name for her,” said Bert.
“What?” asked Nan.
“Baby May,” replied her brother. “Yesterday was the last of April.
To-day is the first of May, so May will be a good name.”
“Yes,” returned Mrs. Bobbsey, “I should say it would. And Baby May you
shall be called until we find out your real name. Now, Dinah, is that
milk warm?”
“Yes’m, Ah’s comin’ wif it! Mah good stars, to t’ink ob a baby like dat
ringin’ de bell in de middle ob de night! Mah lan’!”
“This baby didn’t ring the bell,” said Bert.
“Who did den?” demanded the fat, black cook. “Who did den, Ah axes yo’,
Bert Bobbsey! Who did?”