Polly in New York
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“There spoke the doctor who knows of such cases,” said Anne.
“That isn’t it, however,” remarked Mr. Latimer. “I am of the opinion that this child is of wealthy parentage. He likely is a stumbling-block for some heirs, who wish him safely out of the way so they may claim the estate.”
Anne laughed again. “There speaks the attorney. But you should have had the jealous heirs remove this monogramed locket before they tried to get rid of all evidence of a barrier to their inheritance.”
“Reckon we’d better stop romancing and put Billy to bed,” said Polly, in a matter-of-fact voice.
Her common sense caused a general laugh, and Dr. Evans added: “Well, ladies! Come on, if we are to get home to-night.”
With a last look at the sleepy cherub, and a good-night to the friends living in the Studio, the four New Yorkers went out.
“Where shall he sleep to-night?” asked Anne.
“Let me have him?” cried Polly.
“Oh – I found him first – let me have him,” begged Eleanor.
“No, girls; babies should sleep absolutely alone. I will get a drawer from the high-boy and rig him up a nice little bed therein. To-morrow night he will be in his own home, most likely,” explained Mrs. Stewart.
So saying, she hurried upstairs, and in a short time returned, carrying the drawer. Anne and the two girls helped cushion it softly, and then they placed Billy in it.
He was asleep almost before the bed was ready, and the moment his head sank into the soft pillow, he closed his eyes.
“He seems unusually good, Anne,” ventured Mrs. Stewart, as the four foster mothers stood gazing down at the flushed little baby-face.
“And very pretty for a young child,” added Anne.
“Well,” sighed Polly, “I suppose we’ll have to hand him back in the morning.”
“Some time during the night, most likely,” grumbled Eleanor. “The police will tell his folks where he is, and they will be at our door ten minutes later.”
But no one called for Billy, that night, and in the morning the papers told the story of the foundling. A minute description of his appearance and clothing was given, and the telephone number of the family where he was to be found. Mrs. Evans had wisely refrained from giving any names of the tenants of the Studio.
Before seven o’clock that morning, the telephone began ringing. Anne answered it, but described the baby left on their door-step differently from what the anxious mother on the other end of the wire had expected.
By eight-thirty, the telephone had called Anne or Polly five times. At last Polly said: “My goodness! how can five mothers lose boys like ours in one evening? Can’t they take care of them?”
Eleanor then said, “Why, in Chicago, there are records of more than a score of babies lost every day. Most of them find their parents again, but lots of them don’t.”
“What happens to the poor tots who can’t find their folks again?” asked Polly, horrified.
“They go to the orphan asylum – or the Children’s Home.”
With a gasp, Polly glanced at their laughing little Billy. Then she looked anxiously at her three companions. They had all thought of the same thing, it seems.
“I just couldn’t let him go to a foundling home,” Polly whimpered.
“We can afford to keep him, Polly. You and I can adopt him,” declared Eleanor.
But Anne did not seem to approve of the plan. She shook her head as she gazed at the curly-haired boy who was banging the breakfast table with a teaspoon. “That would never do for you, girls.”
But another ring on the telephone interrupted further argument on that subject. Anne described Billy all over again – “Large brown eyes, very soft silky hair – yellow and curly. About thirty pounds weight, eight front teeth, aged about sixteen months.”
Before she had completed her description of the foundling, the distracted mother at the other end of the wire sighed: “He’s not mine – thank you.”
“Polly and I are not going to school this morning, Anne,” Eleanor now informed the young teacher.
“I don’t see why not?” demanded she.
“First, your mother can’t be chasing back and forth to the ’phone all day; and secondly, we do not propose having a stranger calling and stealing our baby. Unless the parents present perfectly satisfactory evidence that Billy is theirs, no one shall get him.”
Anne smiled, but seeing that it was almost nine o’clock, she consented to the two girls remaining home that session; furthermore, she promised to explain to Mrs. Wellington about the magnet that had kept them at home.
Later in the morning, Dr. Evans stopped in to see if any one had called for the baby. Polly and Eleanor were in the midst of giving Billy his bath in the large tub. Such laughing and shouting had never been heard in that bathroom before. Even Mrs. Stewart laughed in sympathy, as she told the doctor what a fine well-behaved child Billy was.
“I’ll call again this evening, Mrs. Stewart. If he has not been claimed by that time, I will see what I can do to relieve you of his care.”
“Oh – he is no care whatever, doctor; and I doubt whether the girls will consent to your taking him to a home – for a few days, at any rate. They think someone will call for him.”
“But you haven’t any clothes or other necessities for him, have you?” asked the doctor.
“We didn’t have at first, but Nolla and Polly ran to a department store on Fifth avenue – it’s only a few blocks over, you know, – and bought him everything he needs. When he had his shoes on he stood up and began walking about while he held fast to the chairs. He certainly is a bright child.”
“Well, the girls ought not to go silly over him. Buying clothes and shoes and everything – until they know who he is.”
“If no one ever calls, Billy has to have clothes; anyway, we thought we ought to get them, now, instead of later.”
“I can see, Mrs. Stewart, that you are as foolish about the baby, as the two girls are themselves,” laughed Dr. Evans, as he took up his hat to depart.
Mrs. Stewart laughed, but the moment the doctor was out of the front door, she hurried upstairs to help dress the boy after his bath.
Once he was dressed in his new clothing, and had had a full cup of warm milk and gruel, he cuddled down for his nap.
“Now, no use talking! he is a wonder!” declared Eleanor.
“We can keep him, as well as not. He isn’t one mite of trouble,” added Polly.
Having waited until Billy was fast asleep, Mrs. Stewart tip-toed from the bedroom, beckoning the girls to follow her out.
The police-department had sent their detective to get all the facts from Eleanor and Polly, and the press had sent to find out if there was any other clue or information about the boy; then, no further interruptions took place that day.
The two girls sat out under the locust tree in the yard, because there they could hear the first whimper from Billy, when he awoke from his nap. As they sat there, they discussed his future.
“If no one ever calls for him, what shall we do with him?’ asked Polly, giving Eleanor a penetrating look.
“You’ve got something on your mind – what is it?” countered Eleanor.
“Yes, I have, but I want to hear what you have to say.”
“I’d love to keep him, Polly – at least as long as we are in New York. I suppose it would be impossible to take him abroad with us, next summer,” returned Eleanor.
“Yes – impossible. And if we keep him with us, we will have to hire a nurse-maid, as poor Mrs. Stewart can’t look after a lively youngster all day, while we are at school.”
“What was your idea, then?” wondered Eleanor.
“Can’t you guess, Nolla? And his name is Billy, too!”
For an instant Eleanor’s face looked too surprised to allow her to speak. Then she stammered: “Well – of all things!”
“What do you make of it?” laughed Polly.
“Wonderful – but what is your plan?”
“Seeing his name is Billy, and his eyes are dark brown and his hair golden curls, and he is about sixteen months old – all of which are in his favor to advance my little scheme, I should say that we try to keep him a few weeks, right now, and see if we can add to Billy’s winsome ways. Meanwhile, we will use every effort to find if he has any relatives; then should he be a veritable foundling, we will present him to dear Mr. Dalken for his very own.”
“Splendiferous! Perfectly great!” cried Eleanor, slapping her friend on the back in her delight.
“We will quietly advertise for and select a fine elderly nurse for Billy, right off, and when we have him all ready to be given away, he will be a little wonder that no one can refuse.”
“Oh, Mr. Dalken won’t think of refusing him, I know! He will be so happy to have a boy again,” Eleanor said, enthusiastically.
Several times during the day, the telephone rang and someone asked for a description of the baby. Also a number of wild looking people called at the address to have a look at the child, but all departed with forlorn hopes.
As that night was not a class-evening, the girls were free to do as they liked with their time. Anne and her mother were amusing themselves, as much as the baby, by teaching him to say ‘Billy.’ Polly and Eleanor were eagerly watching results. But harshly upon this sweet scene, the door-bell jangled.
“I’ll go!” called Eleanor, and in another minute she had opened the door.
“Oh, Mr. Fabian. Do come in and see our baby!”
Then another admirer joined the circle of worshippers around Billy’s feet. Mr. Fabian had heard the story from Dr. Evans and dropped in to see if the boy was still with his friends.
“He is a dear little shaver, isn’t he?” laughed Mr. Fabian. “But what will you do with him if no one claims him?”
“We really haven’t thought of that,” said Anne.
“I’m afraid, if we keep him here with us a week, or more, we won’t want to give him up again,” added Mrs. Stewart.
Mr. Fabian saw, from the corner of his eye, that Polly was behind him trying to draw his attention. So he managed to turn his head without attracting Anne’s or Mrs. Stewart’s attention, and saw the two girls shake their heads wisely, meantime their fingers rested upon their lips in sign of keeping silence.
Consequently no more was said, that evening, about Billy, and when Mr. Fabian was ready to leave, Polly and Eleanor said they believed they would walk to the corner with their old friend. The baby had been in bed for some time, and Anne was busy writing manuscript, so no one objected to the proposal. Mrs. Stewart merely remarked: “Don’t go any farther than the corner, dearies. And hurry right back home.”
CHAPTER XVI – BILLY FINDS A FATHER
The moment the two girls had Mr. Fabian outside of the Studio, where they could talk in perfect freedom, they told him of their secret plan.
“We are going to keep the baby for a few weeks and see that he is perfectly trained, then we are going to present him to dear Mr. Dalken,” began Polly, eagerly.
“Oh, but we will try and find a sensible woman who will take all care of him, and Mr. Dalken can enjoy Billy when he is at home with nothing else to do,” added Eleanor.
Mr. Fabian was speechless, then he smiled. “Does our friend know about this?”
“Mercy sakes, no! We want to surprise him. We thought it would be fine, if we could keep the baby that long, to leave him at Mr. Dalken’s apartment on Thanksgiving morning,” returned Polly.
“Don’t you think he would like that?” from Eleanor, eagerly.
“Mr. Dalken is now out west on important business, so of course, he doesn’t know a thing about Billy, unless he read about it in the New York papers,” remarked Mr. Fabian, thoughtfully. “I don’t suppose he will take time to glance over every news item in the papers, as he is too preoccupied, at present, with the financial pages.”
“Well, what has that to do with our plan?” asked Eleanor.
“He won’t know a thing about the baby, and you can easily keep the idea secret until Thanksgiving, if you can get the right kind of a woman to take daily care of the boy. Of course, you were going to do that, anyway, were you not?”
“I suppose so – we really hadn’t got as far as that in our planning,” admitted Polly.
“But we will, Mr. Fabian, now that you have mentioned it. How shall we know if we have the right sort of nurse?” added Eleanor.
“I’ll call up Ashby. I was there for dinner to-night, and they told me of a woman they know well, who is compelled to earn her living, because of family reverses. Shall we stop in the hotel across the street and use the booth there?”
“Oh, yes! Let’s, Mr. Fabian!” exclaimed Eleanor.
“No time like the present when you have any important work to do,” added Polly.
Mr. Fabian left the door of the telephone booth slightly ajar so the two girls could assist in the conversation. He soon had Mr. Ashby’s house number and asked if Mr. or Mrs. Ashby were in.
Shortly thereafter a man’s voice was heard talking on the wire. “Is this Fabian – oh, yes. What can I do for you, old man?”
Then Mr. Fabian replied: “Why, I called upon my girls at the Studio this evening, after I left you, and I found the most astonishing addition to their family circle. A little baby boy was left on their door-step, it seems. A fine little fellow, too.
“So far, no one has called to claim him, and should no one come, the two girls have a plan to place him in a good home. They told me all about it, and I rather approve of the idea, too. But what they need, at once, is an experienced, capable woman to take care of the boy, until Thanksgiving Day – perhaps after that, if she is found to be satisfactory.
“I thought, at once, of that woman that Mrs. Ashby and you were speaking of, at table, to-night. Do you suppose she would consider a position as second-mother to a baby?”
The girls strained their ears to hear the reply but Mr. Ashby spoke too low, and they could but judge what he said by Mr. Fabian’s words afterward.
“Fine! If Mrs. Ashby will not consider it too much trouble. And she will bring Martha down to-morrow afternoon when the girls are home from school?”
Polly and Eleanor smiled with relief, and Mr. Fabian said over the ’phone, “All right! Thanks, Ashby. And thank your wife for the two girls, too, who are waiting here for the verdict.”
As the three left the hotel again, Mr. Fabian said: “Now that much is satisfactorily settled for you, and Billy shall have a good woman to look after him, if he is still unclaimed to-morrow afternoon.”
The girls were altogether too inexperienced to realize that it was curious how easily the Ashbys, Mr. Dalken’s most intimate friends, and Mr. Fabian agreed to such a strange plan as trying to saddle a foundling baby on a man who lived a hermit’s life when in his own home.
They never questioned the readiness with which these friends accepted their proposition, but they were delighted at the “lucky chance” that brought a woman to Mrs. Ashby on the very day that they began to think of employing a woman-nurse for the baby.
Mr. Fabian walked back to the Studio door with them, smiling at their dreams of future bliss for Mr. Dalken. In fact, their thoughts traveled so far into the future, that they saw Billy a fine young man and Mr. Dalken, white-haired and bent, depending on his beloved adopted son for everything.
The four inmates of the Studio were not aware that they had been kept singularly free from constant annoyance from reporters and police. Nor did they realize that the short news article that had appeared in the papers, had been a wonderful story to catch the eyes of curious readers, but someone in authority had ordered it “cut” to an inch.
The afternoon following Mr. Fabian’s visit to the girls, they hurried home from school and found Mrs. Ashby’s car in front of the house. They quickly entered the front door and greeted her with a smiling welcome.
“I see you have Billy in hand, already,” laughed Polly.
“Yes; isn’t he a friendly little fellow?” replied Mrs. Ashby.
“Wonderful! We never knew babies were so easy to live with,” added Eleanor.
“Mrs. Stewart took Martha upstairs to show her how you managed for the baby. He may need extra things, or other conveniences,” suggested Mrs. Ashby.
Even as she spoke, the sound of steps was heard descending the front stairs, and soon after, Mrs. Stewart led Martha in, and introduced her to Polly and Eleanor. The girls liked the refined look and quiet sensible words and manners of the nurse-to-be.
“Isn’t it splendid that Martha should have been relieved, last week, of just such a position as we now need her for? She was in the country taking charge of a baby of about this boy’s age, but some friends came and took him away, so she was free to find another position,” explained Mrs. Ashby.
Martha handled Billy as if she was an expert, and the boy crowed and tried to talk to her, as if he had known her all his life.
“I never saw a friendlier baby than this one. He smiles and is contented with anybody, and that will make it fine for Martha,” remarked Mrs. Stewart.
So it was immediately decided to retain Martha during the day, but she would have to find a place to lodge, nearby and leave Billy with the girls during the night. This pleased them well, for they did not wish to relinquish all rights of attendance on their baby to a stranger.
“I may as well remain for the rest of this afternoon, Madam,” said Martha, speaking to Mrs. Ashby, “as I have no other place to go.”
“How about seeking for a room in the neighborhood and taking it to-day? You may not have a free half hour, like this, again,” suggested Mrs. Ashby.
Martha silently acquiesced but she cast a troubled gaze at the child; when Eleanor picked him up by the arms, she immediately corrected the mistake, by saying, “Miss, you should always hold a baby at his age, about the waist – a hand on each side of him. Never by the arms!”
Mrs. Ashby offered to drive Martha about to hunt up a furnished room, so the girls said good-by to their callers.
That evening was school-night again, and Mr. Fabian was interested in hearing if Martha had proved satisfactory. Even Ruth Ashby took a personal interest in the baby-boy, now that Martha was to be his nurse.
“Do you know Martha?” asked Polly, surprised.
“Of course. Wasn’t she mother’s nurse, years ago?”
“Oh – I thought she was a lady of means who had just lost everything,” remarked Eleanor.
“Well, it is this way. When mother was a little mite Martha was a girl of about fourteen. Grandma engaged her to push mother’s carriage out for a walk every day. Then Martha grew up and married and mother never saw her again, for a long time.
“Her husband’s nephew came to live with them, as Martha never had any children, but her nephew grew up and married. Then Martha’s husband died, and she went to live with the nephew and his wife. They were well-to-do young people, and Martha had an easy life there.
“They had a baby, and Martha took care of him, as if she was his own mother. Then the nephew enlisted in the war and was killed ‘over there.’ His wife pined a lot, and during the epidemic of the flu, last Winter, she took it and died, too.
“That left Martha with the baby, but she hadn’t a cent to live on, because there was only the money the baby ought to have had from the Government, because of losing his father in battle. But Martha didn’t understand how to go about getting it, and when a friend of hers offered to find a good home for the baby, the poor great-aunt consented. She had no other choice, as she would have to work herself, and could not be hampered by a little boy.
“Then she came to mother and that is how it all happened.”
“I wonder what became of her grand-nephew?” asked Polly.
“Mother begged of me not to mention it, and never to refer to the past, when Martha was about,” said Ruth, seriously.
“I suppose the poor thing misses her little nephew so much!” observed Polly, sympathetically.
“Yes, that must be the reason,” agreed Ruth.
Mr. Fabian listened attentively and approved of Mrs. Ashby’s advice to her daughter.
No one came to claim Billy, and the days passed swiftly for the self-appointed mothers of the boy. He was so merry and good-natured a child, that Mrs. Stewart sighed when she thought of the Studio without him. Before November passed, he could walk all alone and even tried to climb the stairs.
Martha was a jewel with him. She never seemed too tired to do things for him. She it was, who taught him his table manners and insisted upon his saying “Plee” and “Tant” for anything. He could say “Dadda” and “Biddy” – the latter meaning himself.
Polly and Eleanor spent every spare moment teaching him new accomplishments, so that before the middle of Thanksgiving month, the boy really was unusually precocious and well-behaved.
Mr. Dalken returned to New York the third week in November and immediately sent out cards to his friends for a dinner-party. It was very private, only the circle acquainted with Polly and Eleanor were to be his guests. But they had a good time, nevertheless, and Mr. Dalken appeared more cheerful than of yore.
“Now what do you suppose I called you together for?” said he, after the table had been cleared of the roast and everyone was ready to listen while waiting for salad.
“Dear me, I hope you are not going to spring a sensational surprise on us!” Eleanor said, her face expressing worry.
Everyone laughed, but Mr. Dalken said: “What would you call a sensation?”
“Oh, well! in case you were married while in Chicago! That would ruin my hopes,” interpolated Polly, anxiously.
A general laugh greeted this, and Mr. Dalken retorted:
“I hadn’t even dreamed of such a possibility, but now that you plainly show me how you have been hoping I would propose to you, I may as well take my medicine like a man!”
“Me – you – propose! What are you talking of?” cried Polly, aghast.
Everyone laughed teasingly, but Eleanor explained quickly. “He misunderstood your reason for worrying, Polly. Just like a man – they think one is always thinking of marriage, even when there are great charities being perfected.”
Mr. Dalken now showed his surprise, and asked what really was the cause of Polly’s anxiety.
“Oh, you’ll see some day. We can’t tell you now!” laughed Eleanor.
“Then I may as well confess to you-all and tell you what my surprise is.
“I finished my business in Chicago much sooner than I had hoped for, and went on to Pebbly Pit to see how things were progressing. I had a delightful visit at the ranch, and am able to say that work has reached the point, now, where the mining machines will start working next week, unless snow stops everything.”
“Oh, then you saw father and mother!” cried Polly, eagerly.
“Yes, and I have all sorts of good things for you from home. A jar of preserves, and a dozen or more of glasses filled with jelly and other delectable sweets that Sary insisted that I carry to you. I did my best to explain that it would be cheaper and safer if she sent them by express or parcel post – but no! She told me ‘A bird in th’ hand is wuth two er three in a bush.’”
Polly and Eleanor instantly visualized Sary as she made this remark, and they laughed merrily.
Mr. Dalken then repeated minutest details of the work on Rainbow Cliffs, and the gold mine on Grizzly Slide. As everything promised so well, the girls felt elated at their future prospects.
Mr. Ashby wanted to know if his friend had succeeded in buying any more stock for him, and Mr. Dalken replied: “You’ll have to wait until Latimer issues another block. No one I know of will sell any of what they hold.”
The evening passed pleasantly with intimate matters to speak of, and at last Anne said: “We must be going, Mr. Dalken. The girls have one of their long class days, to-morrow, you know.”
“Yes, and Martha will want to go to bed,” added Mrs. Stewart.
“Who’s Martha? Got a servant at last?” asked Mr. Dalken.
“Why, no, Martha – ” Mrs. Stewart began innocently, but the two girls wildly interrupted her. Polly shouted unusually loud for her, “Oh, I am so tired!”
Eleanor had managed to wink her eyes warningly at Mrs. Stewart, and that lady realized that she had almost “put her foot in it.” Mr. Dalken noticed something was disturbing the two girls, but he never dreamed what it was.
The following evening, at art class, Mr. Fabian had news for the two girls. “Mr. Ashby has invited Mr. Dalken to have his Thanksgiving Dinner with his family, and that will give you the opportunity you need, to get Billy settled in his new home.”