WHAT THE POLICE FOUND
Dinah’s question brought back to the minds of all the Bobbseys,
including the smaller pair of twins, the things that had happened in the
storm during the night.
“That’s right!” exclaimed Bert, snapping his fingers, “this baby
couldn’t have rung our bell, and yet the bell certainly did ring!”
“I heard it!” said Flossie.
“So did I,” added Freddie.
“And we first thought that it was daddy,” remarked Nan.
“I think I begin to see what happened,” Mr. Bobbsey said. “Bert, you
were wrong in thinking the lightning rang the bell.”
“I guess I was,” Bert admitted. “It was the old lady with the green
umbrella and the faded shawl who carried the basket with this baby in
it.”
“Oh, Mother!” gasped Nan. “Do you think she had the baby in the basket
all the while—in the rain—while she was going past our house in the
afternoon? Do you think so?”
“I do,” answered Mrs. Bobbsey.
“And the queer old woman rang our bell,” went on Mr. Bobbsey. “She must
have seen you children at the window when she passed earlier in the
afternoon. She had made up her mind to abandon the baby—that is, leave
it on some doorstep—and when she saw children here she must have said
to herself that there was a kind mother here.”
“And there is!” cried Bert, looking lovingly at his mother. “The best in
the world!”
“Thank you, dear,” murmured Mrs. Bobbsey softly, as she cuddled Baby May
and fed her warm milk.
“So,” went on Mr. Bobbsey, “when the queer old woman with the green
umbrella saw there were children here, she waited until it was dark
enough for her to leave the baby in the basket and then she hurried
away. That’s what she did. She put the baby on the steps, rang the bell,
and ran away.”
“That’s the reason I didn’t see any one when I looked through the glass
door,” remarked Mrs. Bobbsey. “The old lady was gone.”
“Didn’t you see the baby in the basket, either?” asked Flossie, putting
her littlest finger softly on the roselike cheek of Baby May.
“No, dear, I didn’t see the basket,” Mrs. Bobbsey answered. “It was off
to one side, sheltered from the rain.”
“The old lady took good care of the baby, I’ll say that, even if she did
desert her,” resumed Mr. Bobbsey. “After she had rung the bell the first
time, she watched, and when she saw that you didn’t open the door, she
rang it a second time. Then she must have gone away, feeling sure you
would come and take the baby in.”
“But we didn’t!” exclaimed Mrs. Bobbsey. “The poor little dear was out
in the rain all night!”
“But she was warmly wrapped up,” Mr. Bobbsey said. “And she must have
been well fed, for she didn’t cry.”
“If she did, we didn’t hear her,” his wife remarked.
“But I’m glad we found Baby May; aren’t you, Mother?” asked Nan.
Mrs. Bobbsey looked at her husband and the two exchanged strange
glances, though they could not help smiling. Mrs. Bobbsey was already
bringing up two sets of twins, and perhaps she did not care to start in
with a strange, new baby.
But no woman could help loving sweet Baby May, and the manner in which
Mrs. Bobbsey leaned over and kissed the soft cheek showed how tender was
her heart.
“Is that all the breakfast she’s going to have?” asked Freddie, as he
saw the infant turn away from the milk. “I want a lot more than that!
I’m hungry! I got to go to school!”
“So have I!” echoed Flossie.
“My gracious, that’s so! I almost forgot I had to go to the office!”
exclaimed Mr. Bobbsey. “And all the work I’ve got to do on account of
the flood! Come, children, hurry with your breakfasts—but don’t eat too
fast—and then skip off to school. Your mother will know what to do with
the baby.”
“You’re going to keep her, aren’t you, Mother? You’re going to keep Baby
May, surely!” exclaimed Nan, as she went back to the table.
“We’ll see about it,” Mrs. Bobbsey answered. “Of course we couldn’t keep
the baby away from her real father and mother.”
“No, of course not,” slowly agreed Nan. “But that old woman wasn’t her
mother, or she wouldn’t have left her on our doorstep, would she?”
“I don’t believe so,” said Mr. Bobbsey.
“She was a kidnapper! That’s what she was!” declared Bert.
“Maybe she was a gypsy,” suggested Freddie.
“No, I hardly think that,” said Daddy Bobbsey. “From what you told me of
her, I wouldn’t say she was a gypsy, and kidnappers don’t usually leave
the children they take. I don’t know just what to think.”
“We’ll have to notify the police, of course,” said Mrs. Bobbsey, in a
whisper, for Baby May was now asleep and had been put to bed in a cradle
that Dinah brought down from the attic—the cradle Flossie and Freddie
had once cuddled in.
“The police! Are you going to have her arrested?” cried Freddie.
“Hush! Not so loud! You’ll waken her!” warned his mother, holding up a
finger.
“What you going to tell the police for, Daddy?” asked Flossie, in a
whisper.
“Because it is the right thing to do,” said Mr. Bobbsey. “This baby may
have been stolen by this strange old woman. In that case Baby May’s
father and mother will be wild with grief until they get her back. I
must find out from the police if there is any alarm over a kidnapped
child. I’ll do it before I go to the office.”
“Please do it before we go to school,” begged Nan. “I want to tell the
girls all about Baby May.”
Mr. Bobbsey looked at the clock. There was still twenty minutes before
the children need start for school, and he could do considerable
telephoning in that time. So he called up police headquarters and made a
report of the baby being found on his steps.
“Have you any alarm of a child having been kidnapped anywhere around
here?” asked Mr. Bobbsey.
“No,” answered the officer at police headquarters. “But if we hear of
any we’ll let you know.”
“Have any of your men seen about the town this strange old woman with a
green umbrella and a faded shawl?” asked Mr. Bobbsey, and the twins and
Mrs. Bobbsey waited anxiously for the reply. As they could not hear what
was said by the police officer, Mr. Bobbsey told them.
“He says none of his men reported seeing the old lady,” Mr. Bobbsey
retailed. “But he’ll inquire of the officers at the railroad station.
They’ll call me up in a few minutes.”
Mr. Bobbsey put the telephone receiver back on the hook and waited. Soon
the bell rang, and when the father of the Bobbsey twins had listened a
while he turned to his family and said:
“The old lady came in on the train early yesterday morning. The officer
at the station remembers seeing her.”
“Did she have the basket with the baby in it?” asked Nan.
“She had the covered basket, but the policeman didn’t see what was in
it,” answered Mr. Bobbsey.
“Do they know anything more about her?” Mrs. Bobbsey wanted to know.
“Not much except that she acted rather strangely,” was the reply. “She
did not seem to know where she wanted to go, and when the officer asked
her if he could help her she just shook her head and wandered off.”
“Did she tell her name?” Bert inquired.
“The policeman at the railroad station says she mumbled a name something
like ‘Washington’; but he isn’t quite sure about that,” Mr. Bobbsey
reported.
“Then we could call the baby May Washington,” mused Nan.
“Yes, we could,” her mother said. “Is that all the police found out?”
she inquired of her husband.
“That is all,” he said. “They are going to try, however, to find the
strange old lady and ask her why she deserted the baby. But we’ll have
to wait.”
“And you children will have to go to school!” exclaimed Mrs. Bobbsey,
glancing at the clock.
“But you’ll keep Baby May Washington until we come home, won’t you,
Mother?” pleaded Nan.
“Please do!” begged Flossie.
“I’ll see,” murmured Mrs. Bobbsey, as the twins hurried on to school,
and Freddie said to Bert:
“I’d like her better if she was a boy baby.”