CHAPTER XII
MIDDY
“Whither away, Patty?” asked Nan, as Patty came downstairs one bright morning in late October, hatted and gowned for the street.
“I’m going out on multifarious errands. First, I shall make a certain florist I wot me of, wish he had never been born. Whatdoyou think? I ordered pink chrysanthemums and he sent yellow? Could villainy go further? And then I’ve some small shopping to do. Any errands?”
“No, unless you stop in at the photographer’s and see if my pictures are done.”
“All right I will. By, by.”
Patty got into the big car, with its open top, and drew in long breaths of the crisp autumn air.
“To Morley, the florist’s, first, Martin,” she told the chauffeur.
As they drove down Fifth Avenue, Patty nodded to acquaintances now and then. She was very happy, for she was planning a pleasant outing for her club of working girls, and it greatly interested her. She had long ago gotten over her foolish notion about the stage, and was now able to laugh at the recollection of her silly idea. But she occasionally sang at a concert for charity or for the entertainment of her friends, and her voice, by reason of study and practice, was growing stronger and fuller.
When she reached Morley’s the florist’s doorman assisted Patty from the car, and she went into the shop.
Though she had threatened to reprove him severely for his error about the flowers, Patty was really very polite, and merely called his attention to the mistake, which he promised to rectify at once. Then, selecting a small bunch of violets to pin on her coat, Patty went out.
The doorman, who had been looking in the window, to see when she started, sprang to attention, and then, as Patty stepped toward her car, she stood stock-still in amazement. For there, on the back seat, sat a smiling baby, a chubby rosy-cheeked child about two years old.
“Why, you cunning Kiddy!” exclaimed Patty, “where in the world did you come from? What are you doing in my car?”
The baby smiled at her, and holding out a little white-mittened hand, said: “F’owers? F’owers for Middy?”
“Who is she, Martin?” asked Patty of the chauffeur. “How did she get here?”
Martin looked around. The car was a long one, and he had not turned to look back since Patty went into the shop.
“Why, Miss Patty, I don’t know! Maybe some of your friends left her?”
“No, of course, no one would do that, and besides, I don’t know the child. Who are you, baby?”
“Middy,” said the little one. “I Middy.”
“You are, are you? Well, that doesn’t help much. Who brought you here, Middy?”
“Muddy.”
“Muddy, Middy. Your vocabulary seems to be limited! Well, what shall I do with you?”
The baby gurgled and smiled and reiterated a demand for “f’owers.”
“Yes, you may have the flowers,” and Patty gave her the violets, “but I don’t understand your presence here.”
Apparently it mattered not to the baby what Patty understood, and she smelled the flowers with decided evidences of satisfaction.
Patty turned to the doorman, who had followed her from the shop.
“What do you make of it?” she said.
The man stared. “I don’t know, ma’am. There was no baby in the car when you arrived here.”
“That there was not,” agreed Patty. “Well, how did she get there?”
“I’m sure I’ve no idea, ma’am.”
“Weren’t you here while I was in the store?”
“Yes, ma’am, but I was looking in at you, so’s to be ready to open your car door as soon as you came out.”
“Well, I never heard of anything so queer. I wonder what I’d better do.”
“Shall I call a policeman, ma’am?”
“Policeman? Gracious, no! This is a nice child. See how pretty she is, and how well dressed.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Patty looked up and down the street, but saw no one whom she could connect with the baby’s presence. A policeman drew near, and his expression was questioning. He hadn’t realised that there was a strange baby in the case, but he saw the lady was in a dilemma of some sort, and he was about to ask why.
But Patty jumped in the car beside the child, and said, “Home, Martin,” so quickly, that the policeman wandered on without a word.
“It’s ridiculous to take you home, baby,” Patty said; “but what can I do with you?”
“F’owers,” said the little voice, and the stranger offered them to Patty to smell.
“Yes, nice flowers,” returned Patty, absently, as she stared hard at her visitor. “Who are you, dear?”
“Middy,—des Middy,” and the little face dimpled in glee.
“Well, Middy, you’re one too many for me!” and they went on toward home.
“Oh, Nan!” cried Patty, as she took her new friend indoors, “look who’s here!”
“Who is she?” asked Nan, looking up from her book, as Patty deposited the small morsel of humanity on a sofa.
“Dunno. She was wished on me while I was in at Morley’s. Came out of the shop to find her sitting bolt upright in the car.”
“Really? Did somebody abandon her?”
“Can’t say. She wasn’t there,—and then, shewasthere! That’s all I know. Want her?”
“Certainly not. But what are you going to do with her?”
The stranger seemed to sense a lack of welcome, and putting up a pathetic little red lip, said in tragic tones. “Middy ’ants Muddy.”
“You poor little thing!” cried Patty, catching her up in her arms. “Did your mother put you there?”
“Ess, Muddy frowed Middy in au’mobile. Middy ’ant do home.”
“Where is your home?”
The baby’s face smiled beatifically, but the midget only said “Vere?”
“Don’t you know yourself?” and the baby shook her head.
“It’s clear enough, Patty, somebody has abandoned the little thing. How awful! And such a pretty baby!”
“And beautifully dressed. Look, Nan, see the little white kid shoes, and fine little handkerchief linen frock. And her cap is all hand-embroidered.”
“And her coat is of the best possible quality. Look at the fineness of the cloth.”
“Well, what about it?”
“I can’t make it out. If it were a poor child, I’d think it a case of abandonment. Oh, Patty, I’ll tell you! Somebody kidnapped a rich child, and then they became frightened, and slipped her into your car to save themselves from discovery.”
“Why, of course that’s it! How clever you are, Nan, to think it out! For she is a refined, sweet baby, not a bit like a slum child.”
This was true. The dark curls that clustered on the baby’s brow were fine and soft, her little hands were well cared for, and her raiment was immaculate and of the best. But they searched in vain for any name or distinguishing mark on her clothes. Even the coat and cap had no maker’s tag in them, though it was evident that there had been.
“See,” said Patty, “they’ve ripped out the store tag! The kidnappers did that. Did the bad mans take you, baby?”
“No, Muddy b’ing baby. Des Muddy.”
“Muddy is, of course, her mother. Now, we know her mother never put the child in the car, so I guess we can’t depend on her story.”
“Ess,” and the little one grew emphatic. “Muddy did b’ing Middy. An’ Muddydidput Middy in au’mobile.”
“Well, I give it up. She seems to know what she’s talking about, but I do believe she was kidnapped. We’ll have to keep her for a day or two. It’ll be in the papers, of course.”
“Perhaps she’s hungry, Nan; what ought she to eat?”
“Anything simple. Ask Louise for some milk and crackers.”
But Middy did not seem hungry. She took but a sip of the milk and a mere nibble of the cracker. She seemed happy, and though she beamed impartially on everybody, she said little.
“She ought to have something to play with,” decreed Patty. “There isn’t a thing in the house. I ransacked the attic rooms for that last missionary box. I haven’t any favours or toys left. Nan, I’m going to take her out to buy some, and maybe we’ll meet her distracted mother looking for her.”
“Maybe you won’t! But go along, if you like. I’ll go with you as far as Gordon’s.”
Putting on the baby’s wraps again, Patty started off. The child was delighted to go in the car.
“Nice au’mobile,” she said, patting the cushions.
“Hear her patronising tone!” laughed Nan. “Middy have au’mobile at home?” she inquired.
“No, no,” was the reply as the tiny white teeth showed in a sunny smile.
“You’re a lovely-natured little scamp, anyway,” declared Patty, hugging the morsel to her, and Middy crowed in contentment.
Patty took her to a large toyshop. As they entered, a clerk came forward to wait on them. “What can I show you?” he asked.
“Wait a minute,” said Patty. “Let the baby choose. Now, Middy, what do you like best?”
The child looked around deliberately. Then, spying some dolls, she made a rush for them. “Middy ’ant Dolly-baby! Ess!”
“Very well, you shall have a dolly-baby. This one, or this one?”
“No. ’Reat bid one! See!”
She pointed to the largest doll of all, a very magnificent affair, indeed.
“Oh, that’s too big for a little girl like Middy! Have a dear little, cunning, baby doll.”
But, no, the child was self-willed, and insisted on the big doll.
“Well,” said Patty, “I suppose she might as well have it,” so the big doll was put into the outstretched little arms, and peace reigned.
“An’ a dolly vadon,” the small tyrant went on. This was translated to mean dolly wagon, by the clerk, who was more versed than Patty in baby language.
“Good gracious, sister! You’ll bankrupt me!” and Patty inquired the price of the little coaches.
Moreover, the wilful purchaser declined all but the best and biggest, and when it was ordered sent home, Patty hurried her charge out of the store lest she demand further booty.
With the big doll they went back home, and Patty set herself to work to get further knowledge of the child’s antecedents.
But here efforts were vain. She learned only the age of her guest and no other statistics.
“Mos’ two ’ears old,” Middy declared she was, but except for that, no information was forthcoming.
Inquiries regarding her father brought only blank looks.
“Haven’t you any father at all?” urged Patty.
“No; no fader. Poor Middy dot no fader!”
But the bid for sympathy was so clearly insincere, and the accompanying smile so merry that Patty concluded she had no father of her recollection.
It soon transpired that the wily mite called for sympathy on all occasions. “Poor Middy,” was her constant plea, if she wanted anything.
“Poor Middy hung’y,” she said at last, and this time she eagerly welcomed the milk and crackers.
“Now, Poor Middy s’eepy,” she announced, when her meal was over, and willingly she allowed Patty to bathe her hands and face and put her to rest on the couch in the living-room.
“Did you ever see anything so pretty?” exclaimed Patty to Nan, as the latter returned. “She’s been sleeping nearly two hours. See her little hand, just like a crumpled rose-leaf. WhatwillDad say?”
They let the baby sit up until Mr. Fairfield’s arrival, anxious to know his opinion of the strange circumstance.
“Well, bless my soul!” he exclaimed. “Patty, what queer jinks will you cut up next?”
“But, Dads, it surely wasn’t my fault! It was none ofmydoing!”
“Of course not, child. I expect you’re one of those cut out for queer happenings. There are such people, you know.”
“Well, but what do you think about it? How do you explain it? Do you think, as Nan does, that kidnappers put her in the car, because they were frightened for their own safety, if found with the little thing?”
“Not altogether likely. I think it’s more probable the mother abandoned it.”
“Oh, how could she! That angel child. Sheisa beauty, isn’t she, Daddy?”
“Very pretty, very pretty, indeed. But a problem. The end is not yet, Pattykins. I’m sorry this has happened. There’s been no kidnapping. If there had it would have been in the papers. This is, it seems to me, a deep laid plot of some sort. Well, we must await developments.”
Patty went away with Louise to make the baby a bed for the night, in her own dressing-room. With pillows and some guarding chairs, they improvised a crib, and the process of undressing the baby proved such a gala time that the whole house rang with merriment.
As they took off one little white shoe, a folded paper dropped out. It was addressed to Patty herself,—but with a feeling of apprehension as to what it might contain, she ran downstairs with it, before she looked inside at all.
CHAPTER XIII
CHICK’S PLAN
“Here’s a note,” said Patty to her parents. “It was in the baby’s shoe! I haven’t read it. Open it, Dad.”
Mr. Fairfield took the paper Patty handed him, and read aloud:
To Miss Fairfield:—Will you not adopt my little girl? I am a woman of your own class in society. I married my father’s chauffeur, and my family disowned me. Now, I am in most unfortunate circumstances, but I have tried to keep my baby well-nurtured and well-dressed. I can do it no longer, and though it breaks my heart to give her up, I want her to have a home of refinement and comfort. You are rich, and you are devoted to charitable work. Will you not keep her for your own? Or, if you are unwilling to do this, will you not find a good kind friend who will take her? Her name is Millicent, but I call her Milly. She is a year and ten months old, and she has a lovely disposition. Do not attempt to seek me out. I will never try to see the child nor will I make trouble in any way about the adoption. Please keep her yourself.FromMilly’s Mother.P. S.—She loves custards and hates oatmeal.
To Miss Fairfield:—Will you not adopt my little girl? I am a woman of your own class in society. I married my father’s chauffeur, and my family disowned me. Now, I am in most unfortunate circumstances, but I have tried to keep my baby well-nurtured and well-dressed. I can do it no longer, and though it breaks my heart to give her up, I want her to have a home of refinement and comfort. You are rich, and you are devoted to charitable work. Will you not keep her for your own? Or, if you are unwilling to do this, will you not find a good kind friend who will take her? Her name is Millicent, but I call her Milly. She is a year and ten months old, and she has a lovely disposition. Do not attempt to seek me out. I will never try to see the child nor will I make trouble in any way about the adoption. Please keep her yourself.
FromMilly’s Mother.
P. S.—She loves custards and hates oatmeal.
“Well,” said Patty, “here’s a state of things! Mrs. Milly must think I’m anxious to start an orphan asylum? The kiddy is a dear,—but I’m not sureIcare to adopt her.”
“I should saynot!” and Nan looked indignant. “I never heard of such nerve!”
“Now, now,” broke in Mr. Fairfield, “the poor mother is not so much to be blamed. I feel very sorry for her. Think of the circumstances. She married the chauffeur,—ran away with him, likely,—and now he has doubtless deserted her, or worse, remained with her and treats her cruelly. Poor girl, it’s only natural that she should want her baby to grow up in a home having the advantages she herself enjoyed. If I were you, Patty-girl, I’d try to find a good home for the little waif; that is, unless you wish to keep her here.”
“No,” replied Patty, thoughtfully, “I don’t believe I do. You can’t take a baby as you would a lapdog. There is a responsibility and a care that you would have to assume, and I’m sure I don’t want to devote the better part of my existence to bringing up a child that doesn’t belong to me.”
“Of course you don’t,” agreed Nan. “The idea is absurd. But the question is, who would take her?”
“I can’t think of anybody,” declared Patty, wrinkling her brows. “Could we advertise?”
“No,” said Mr. Fairfield, “that wouldn’t do at all. You’ll have to keep the baby for a little while, and ask your friends if they know of a possible home for her. When it is noised around, I’m sure some one will come forward to want her.”
“And meantime, Daddy, you can look after her! I’m planning a busy winter, and I’ve no time for stray lambs.”
“Can’t you get a nurse?” suggested Mr. Fairfield.
“Oh, yes,” and Nan sighed. “But we’ve as many servants as the house will easily accommodate now; and a nurse and a nursery and the nurse’s room will necessitate rearranging everything. It’s no joke to introduce a baby member into a household, I can tell you!”
“You can keep my dressing-room for a nursery,” offered Patty; “I can get along without it for a time.”
“It isn’t really big enough,” objected Nan. “The child must have lots of fresh air, and—oh, I neverdidhave any patience with those idiot people who say, ‘Why do women waste their affection on dogs? Why not adopt a dear little baby?’ It’s a very different proposition, I can tell you! Of course, we’ll have to have a nurse, if the child stays here at all, but where we’ll put herIdon’t know.”
“Well,” said Patty, hopefully, “perhaps we can find a home for her quickly. And, too, I’d like to have her here a few weeks. I think she’s a darling plaything, but I don’t want to keep her all her life. I wonder who the mother is. Do you suppose she knows me?”
“Of course she knows of you,” said her father; “your name is often in the papers in connection with various charities as well as in the social notes. She chose you, probably, as being too kind-hearted to shift the responsibility of the affair.”
“And I am! I’ll accept the responsibility of finding Milly a home, but it can’t be here, of that I’m certain.”
“How shall you go about it?” asked Nan, looking helpless and rather hopeless.
“With energy and promptness,” returned Patty. “And the promptness begins right now.”
She seated herself at the telephone table and called up a wealthy and childless woman of her acquaintance.
“Oh, Mrs. Porter,” she began, “I’ve the most wonderful opportunity for you! Don’t you want to adopt a baby girl, a real Wonder-Child, all big, dark eyes and curly hair and the sweetest little hands and feet?”
“Oh, thank you, no,” replied the amused voice at the other end of the line; “it is, indeed, a chance of a thousand, I am sure; but we’re going South for the winter, and we shall be bobbing about, with no settled abode for a baby. Where did you get the paragon?”
“I have it on trial, and I want to dispose of it advantageously. Don’t you know of any one who might take her?”
“Let me see. I believe Mrs. Bishop did say something about some friend of hers who knew of somebody who was about to take a child from an orphan asylum; but I remember now, she especially wanted a blonde.”
“Oh, but brunettes areeverso much nicer! I’m a blonde myself, and it’s awfully monotonous! Do tell me the name of the friend’s friend,—or whoever it was.”
“I don’t know, really. It was about a month ago I heard of it. But Mrs. Bishop can tell you,—Mrs. Warrington Bishop.”
“I don’t know her,” said Patty, “may I use your name as an introduction?”
“Certainly. And if I can think up anybody else I’ll let you know.”
That was but the first of a hundred similar conversations that Patty held. She used the telephone, as it meant far less time wasted than personal visits would consume, and she hoped each call would bring indirect results, if not immediate success. But everybody was too engrossed in society or philanthropy or some hobby or travelling about, to consider for a moment the acquisition of a new charge.
Two or three times there was a glimmer of a hope of success and Patty would go flying off to call on a possible client. But always it proved a vain chimera. One lady wanted a baby to adopt, but would only take a boy. Another was most desirous of an infant, but it must be not more than six weeks old. Another had intended adopting a child, but had suddenly turned to settlement work instead.
The days went by, and Patty became almost disheartened. Nan and her father tried to help her, but they, too, met with no success. Mr. Fairfield spoke to several business friends of his, but they either laughed at him or politely expressed their lack of interest in the matter.
A nurse had been engaged, a skilled and capable trained nurse; for Patty argued that if they wanted to find a good home for Milly they must keep her in the pink of condition.
But though the nurse was most efficient, she was dictatorial and high-tempered, and her superior air offended the other servants, and caused Housekeeper Nan no end of trouble. They thought of changing the nurse, but Miss Swift took such good care of her charge that they continued to keep her.
The small cause of all the excitement went on her sunny-faced merry-hearted way, unknowing what turmoil she had stirred up.
“Middy lub Patty,” she would say, toddling to Patty’s side as she sat at her everlasting telephone conversations. “Middy fink Patty booful!”
“Yes, and Patty finks Middy is booful,” catching the baby up in her arms, “but you are a terrible responsibility!”
“Fot is tebble spombilty?”
“Well, it’s what you are. I don’t know what to do with you!”
“Lub me,” suggested Milly, twining her chubby arms around Patty’s neck till she nearly choked her. “Tell me I’s your pressus baby-kins.”
“Yes, you’re all of that; and, as a matter of fact, I’m getting too fond of you, you little fat rascal!”
“I must beg of you, Miss Fairfield, not to caress the child so much,” said the cold voice of Nurse Swift. “It is conceded by all authorities that kissing is most harmful——”
“Fudge!” said Patty; “I’m only kissing the back of her neck. Microbes don’t hurt back there. Do they, Doodlums?” and she cuddled the baby again, while Miss Swift looked on in high dudgeon.
“Of course,” she said, primly, “if my advice, based on experience and knowledge, is not to be considered at all, it might be well if you employed some other——”
“There, there, Nurse,” interrupted Patty, “we’re not going to employ anybody else. Take the kiddy-wid, and put her in a glass case. Then she won’t get kissed and cuddled by bad, naughty, ignorant Pattys. By-by, Curly-head!”
“No, no! Middy ’tay wiv Patty. Middy not go wiv bad Nursie!”
“Listen, Dearie Girl. Go away with Nursie now, and get nice bread and milk, and come back to see Patty some ’nother time.”
This reasoning worked well and the baby went off smiling and throwing kisses back to Patty.
“Oh, me, oh, my,” sighed Patty, “what can I do, whatcanI do?”
That evening Chick Channing called. To him Patty narrated her difficulties.
“Don’t you know of anybody who wants a perfectly angel child?” she said. “Truly there never was such a little ray of sunshine, such a sweet disposition and intelligent mind.”
But Channing didn’t know of a single applicant for such a treasure.
“But I’ll tell you what,” he said; “let’s peddle her. Tomorrow I’ll come for you in my runabout, and you have the kiddy all dolled up fine, and we’ll take her round from house to house and offer her to the highest bidder.”
“There won’t be any bidders,” said Patty, disconsolately.
“Oh, I don’t know. We can exploit her, and her appearance will be all to the good. Anyway, we can try it, and it’ll give the poor little scrap an outing, if nothing more. And give her overworked nurse a chance for an hour off.”
So Patty agreed, and the next afternoon Chick came for them. The baby looked a dream, in her white coat and hat, her clustering curls showing a glimpse of pink hair-ribbon.
“Where first?” asked Chick, as they started off in gay spirits.
“Mercy,Idon’t know!” returned Patty. “I thought you were running this scheme, and that you had places in view.”
“Not I. But if you haven’t either, I suggest we just stop, hit or miss, at any house that looks hospitable.”
“Nonsense, we can’t do that.”
“Well, then let’s take her to an orphan asylum or children’s home and just leave her there.”
“No, indeed!” and Patty clasped Milly close. “She shan’t go to any such place! Why, they mightn’t be kind to her!”
“Probably not. But what, then?”
“Oh, dear, I don’t know. What good are you, Chick, if you can’t suggest something? I’m worn out pondering on the subject.”
“Well, if it’s as bad as that, Imustinvent something. Let me see. Oh, by the way, are you going to the Meredith tea this afternoon?”
“I meant to go, till you trumped up this plan, which, if you’ll excuse me, is the biggest wild-goose chase I ever saw!”
“Not unless you’re the wild goose. I assure you I’m not. And to prove it, here’s a plan. Let’s go to the tea, and take this little exhibit. There will be hundreds of people there, and you can auction her off easily enough.”
“Chick! What a crazy idea! It would never do!”
“Why not?”
“Well, first, Mrs. Meredith would be highly indignant at such a performance.”
“Not she! You know very well, Patty, she’s a climber; and she’s most anxious to know you better, and count you as her friend. Oh, I know all this inside information, I do! So, if you do something a bit eccentric, perhaps, but pretty and effective it will give her tea a certain prestige, a unique interest that will tickle her to death.”
Patty considered. “It might work,” she said, thinking hard; “but I’ll have to go back and dress.”
“So shall I. But the Belle of the Ball, here, is all right, isn’t she?”
“Yes; or,—no,—I’ll put on her very bestest frock, all lace and frills. Well, turn back home, then and come for us again at five. It’s Milly’s bed-time at six, but no matter, if we provide her a home and a career.”
At five, then, Chick returned, and found a resplendent pair awaiting him. Patty wore one of her prettiest afternoon frocks, of Dolly Varden silk, and Milly was in gossamer linen and laces, hidden beneath her white cloth coat.
She was in effervescent spirits and babbled continuously in her merry little way.
At the house, the maid in the cloak-room stared hard at the baby, but said no word as she drew off the little coat sleeves.
Patty looked Milly over, critically, perked up her enormous pink hair-bow, and shook out her frills, then they went to the drawing-room, meeting Chick at the door.
“I feel a mad desire to giggle,” he said, as he caught sight of Patty, and Milly toddling beside her.
“I feel a mad desire to run away,” she returned. “Stand by me, Chick.”
“A la mort!” he replied, and they entered the reception.
“How do you do, Mrs. Meredith?” said Patty, in her most dulcet tones. “I took the liberty of bringing a little friend of mine. Though she wasn’t invited, I feel sure you can spare her a little bit of your welcome and hospitality.”
Mrs. Meredith, a young woman of great dignity, looked at Milly in astonishment. As Patty had carefully taught her, the midget dropped a dainty courtesy, and smiled up in her hostess’ face.
Remembering the great desirability of Patty’s friendship, Mrs. Meredith retained her composure, and laughed. “You dear girl, how original you are! Who else would have thought of bringing a baby to my reception? Is she a relative of yours?”
“Not that,” said Patty, smiling, “but a very dear friend.”
And then Channing stepped up to greet Mrs. Meredith, and others quickly followed, so that our trio could drift away into the crowd of chatting, laughing people.
“What shall we do with Middy?” said Patty, anxiously. “The little thing will be smothered down there, among all those full skirts and floating sashes!”
For already the tiny mite was entangling her little fingers in the fringed ends of a lady’s scarf.
“I’ll take her,” and Chick leaned down, and picking up Middy, seated her on his broad shoulder.
It made a bit of a sensation, for Channing’s towering height made him always a conspicuous figure, and the laughing baby attracted every one’s attention.
“Now’s your chance!” he whispered suddenly. “Everybody is looking at us. Step up on this chair and auction her off! Idareyou to!”
CHAPTER XIV
A GREAT SUCCESS
Patty always declared afterward, that Chick hypnotised her, and that sheneverwould have done it, had she been in her right mind.
But, on the spur of the moment, carried away with the spirit of the thing, knowing that it was then or never, and taunted by the “dare,” Patty stepped up on the low chair, and said, “People Dear” before she realised what she was about. Then, like a flash, an acute realisation of what she had done, came over her, followed with lightning-like swiftness by the knowledge that shemustgo on. To go on was the only possible justification for having gone so far. So, go on, she did.
“Dear People, listen a minute. This is unconventional and all that, I know,—but just hark. Here is a little girl, a beautiful and well-born child, for somebody’s adoption. Who wants her? Surely among all of you there is some woman-heart who could love this dear baby enough to give her a home. Look at her! Is she not charming? And as bright and affectionate as she is pretty. Kiss your hand to the people, Milly.”
Milly always obeyed the slightest wish of her beloved Patty, and with the most adorable smiles, and coy glances from her big, dark eyes, she blew kisses from her tiny fingertips.
“Now love Mr. Chick,” went on Patty, shaking in her shoes, lest this might try Channing’s endurance beyond its limit.
But he was game, and when Milly’s dimpled arms went round his neck and she laid her soft cheek against his hair, and crooned a few little love notes, the audience applauded with delight.
“You see,” went on Patty, “this baby is homeless. I want to give her to a kind, wise and loving woman. No others need apply. I will say no more now, but any one who is interested may speak to me about it either here and now, or at my home. I will tell all particulars to any one who wants the baby, and will be the right mother for her.”
Flushed with the excitement of the moment, Patty made a deprecating little bow, and stepped down from the low chair.
There was a moment’s silence, and then Milly’s high, thin little voice piped out: “Me fink Patty booful!”
This disarmed criticism and everybody laughed, while a ripple of applause floated through the room. And then half a dozen of the ladies moved toward the end of the room where Patty and Milly were.
They were followed by others, for all wanted to see more closely the interesting mite, and the unusual circumstance roused curiosity even among those who had no thought of taking the child.
But it seemed several did want her, or at least wanted to investigate the matter.
Channing, by Patty’s side, helped to answer questions. He was an invaluable aid, for his quick wit and pleasant personality made for a clear understanding of the case.
“Nonsense, Mrs. Fanning,” he said to a gay young matron, “you don’t want another olive branch! You’ve five at home, now!”
“I know it, but this is such a heavenly baby, and my youngest is eight. I’d love to have this cherub, though I don’t know what Mr. Fanning would say——”
“Now, you musn’t be greedy,” said Chick, smiling; “be content with your own little brood, and let somebody take Milly, who really needs an angel in the house.”
Milly did not become frightened at the amount of curious attention she received, but serene and sweet, smiled happily at all, and cuddled close to Patty.
It was not difficult to discover who was really in earnest among the inquirers. Some were charmed by the baby’s attractions, but had no thought of taking her to keep. Others looked at her wistfully, but for one reason or another were unable to adopt her. But there were three who were positive of their desire for the child, and each of the three was determined to have her.
“I offered first,” argued Mrs. Chaffee, a haughty dame, whose dark eyes blazed angrily, as she noted Patty’s indifference to her claim. “I wish to have the child, and I can give her every advantage.”
“So can I,” said Miss Penrose, a delightful middle-aged spinster, who wanted an heir to her fortune and a pet to lavish her affection upon. “I want her very much. I can devote all my time and attention to her. She shall have the best of education and training, and my wealth shall all be hers.”
Patty considered. Miss Penrose was of aristocratic family, and her prestige was undeniable. She would give all care and study to a most careful, correct bringing up of the baby, and Milly’s future would be assured. But, and Patty did not herself realise at first why she objected to Miss Penrose, until it suddenly dawned on her that it was because the lady had no sense of humour! Patty was sure she would take the upbringing of Milly so seriously that the sunny baby would become a little automaton. This was instinctive on Patty’s part, for she knew Miss Penrose only slightly, but the earnestness of the lady was very apparent.
Smilingly holding the question in abeyance, Patty listened to the plea of the third applicant. This was Mrs. Colton, a sad-faced, sweet-eyed young widow. Two years before, a motor accident had snatched from her her husband and baby girl, and had left her for a time hovering between life and death. Only of late, had she listened to her friends’ urging to go among people once more, and this tea was almost her first appearance in society since her tragic affliction.
With tears in her eyes, she said to Patty: “Imusthave the baby. She is not unlike my little Gladys, and she would be to me a veritable Godsend. I have thought often of adopting a child, and this is the one I want. I love her already. Will you come to me, Milly?”
Milly eyed her. For a moment the two looked at each other intently. There was a breathless pause, and all who were near felt the dramatic intensity of the moment. Mrs. Colton smiled, and it may have been that Milly read in that smile all the pent-up mother-love and longing, for she dropped Patty’s hand and walked slowly toward the lady,—her little arms outstretched. Reaching her, she threw her arms about her neck, exclaiming, “I fink you’s booful!”
This phrase was her highest praise, and as Mrs. Colton’s arms closed round the child, no one could doubt that these two hearts were forever united.
“I hope youwilltake her, Mrs. Colton,” said Patty, earnestly; “you are made for each other.”
“Indeed, I will take her, if I may. In fact, I cannot let her go!” and the tear-dimmed eyes, full of affection, gazed at the little cherub.
“ButIwant her,” declared Mrs. Chaffee. “I asked for her first, and I think it most unfair——”
“I’m not auctioning the baby, Mrs. Chaffee,” said Patty, smiling at the determined lady; “it isn’t a question of who asked first. Milly and Mrs. Colton are too perfectly suited to each other to let me even consider any other mother for the child. Please give up all thought of it, for I have made up my mind.”
Miss Penrose was more acquiescent, and nonchalantly presumed she could get an equally pretty baby from an asylum. To which Patty heartily agreed.
It was arranged that Patty should take Milly home with her for a few days, till Mrs. Colton could prepare for her reception. Also, she promised to call in her lawyer and see about the legal processes of adoption in this most unusual case.
All unwitting of the plans for her destiny, Milly beamed impartially on everybody, and went with Patty to make adieux to the hostess.
“I do apologise,” said Patty, smiling, “for this eccentric performance. But when you know me better, dear Mrs. Meredith, you will expect strange happenings when I’m about. All my friends know this.”
The speech was a clever one, for Mrs. Meredith greatly desired to be classed among the friends of Patty Fairfield, the society belle.
“It was charming of you,” she returned, “to choose my drawing-room for your pretty project. I trust you will always feel free to avail yourself of any opportunity I can offer.”
Milly made her dear little curtsey; Channing murmured polite phrases, and they went away.
“Well!” said Chick, as they whirled along homeward, “we came, we saw, and you bet we conquered! How about it?”
“I should say we did!” and Patty’s face glowed with satisfaction and happiness. “There’s nobody I’d rather give Milly to than Mrs. Colton. She’s a perfect dear, and her great sorrow has left her with an aching, hungry heart, that this little scrap of happiness can fill.”
“You were a brick, Patty! I didn’t think you’d dare do it.”
“I couldn’t have, if I’d stopped to think. But you dared me—and I never could refuse a dare!”
“Then I claim some of the credit of the success of our scheme.”
“All of it, Chick. I never should have dreamed of such an unheard of performance! WhatwillNan say?”
“Let’s go in and see; may I come in?”
“Yes, do. I want you to back me up, if they jump on me.”
But they didn’t. Though Nan and Mr. Fairfield were utterly astounded at the story they heard, they had only praise for the result.
“The very one!” declared Nan. “Mrs. Colton is a lovely woman, and her wealth and education and refined tastes will insure Milly exactly the right kind of a home for life. Oh, Patty, it’s fine! But whatdidMrs. Meredith think?”
“Oh,” said Patty, airily, “as it was the illustrious Me, she was overjoyed to have her house turned into an auction room! She would have been equally delighted if I’d made a bear garden of it.”
“You conceited little rascal,” said her father, shocked at this self-esteem.
“No, it wasn’tmyidea. You all knowmyoverweening modesty. But Chick, here, said that the parvenu element in the lady’s soul would be kindly disposed toward,—well, let us say, toward the daughter of Frederick Fairfield.”
This turning of the tables made them all laugh, but Channing said, “It’s quite true. I know the Meredith type, and I was sure that to be made conspicuous by an acknowledged social power, like our Patty, would be unction to her soul.”
“Well, it was a crazy piece of business,” said Mr. Fairfield, “but as it turned out so admirably, we can’t complain. It is right down splendid, to get the little one taken by such a fine woman as Mrs. Colton. I’m sure it will be a most successful arrangement. And we owe you a vote of thanks, Channing, for bringing it about.”
“Oh, I’m only accessory before the fact. Patty did it. I wish you could have seen her when she mounted that chair! It was as good as a play. Her do-or-die expression, concealed beneath a society smile, was a whole show!”
“I don’t care, I accomplished my purpose,” and Patty beamed with satisfaction; “but it was mostly because Chick dared me!”
“Let us hope I’ll always be present at any crisis in your life to dare you!” said Channing. “It’s an easy way to achieve great results.”
When Patty’s friends heard of her episode, they bombarded her with telephone messages and notes and calls concerning it. Some chaffed her and others praised, but all were agog over the matter. Even Mrs. Van Reypen telephoned to know if the report she had heard were true.
“What did you hear?” asked Patty.
“That you went to a tea and auctioned off a baby.”
“No, that isn’t quite the true version of what happened. Now, I’ll tell you.”
“No, don’t. I can’t bear to talk over the telephone. Come and see me, and bring that child along. I want to see it.”
Mrs. Van Reypen’s wish was usually looked upon as a command, and the next afternoon Patty started off with Milly to call on her elderly friend.
“What a baby! Oh,whata baby!” was the greeting the child received, for Mrs. Van Reypen was most enthusiastic. “Why didn’t you keep her yourself? How can you let her go? I never saw such a lovely baby!”
“She is,” agreed Patty, smiling, as Milly curtsied to Mrs. Van Reypen over and over again. “But I couldn’t keep her. I don’t want the care and responsibility of a kiddy. Would you have liked to take her?”
“I believe I would, if you had offered me the chance. But no, I am too old to train a baby now. Do you know, though, Patty, the care of orphan children has always appealed to me as one of the best of philanthropies. I sometimes think even yet I will start a home for such little waifs. I mean a real homelike sort of a place,—not the institution usually founded for such a purpose.”
“It would be a splendid thing, Lady Van. Go ahead, and do it. I will help you, if I can.”
“Would you, Patty? Would you give of your time and interest to help establish the thing, and be one of the workers for it?”
“Yes, I would. I don’t want the entire responsibility of little Milly, but I am glad I’ve found a good home for her. And if there are other similar little unfortunates, and of course there are, I’d be more than willing to help you in a project to make them happy and cared for.”
“Well, I’ll remember that, and I think I’ll set about planning for it. I’m getting older all the time, and what I do, ought to be begun soon. Patty, you are very dear to me,—you know that?”
“It’s kind of you to say so, Lady Van, and I do appreciate and greatly value your affection for me. I wish I could do something to show my love in return, and if you decide to go into this scheme of yours, call on me for any help I can give.”
“Thank you, dear. But, Patty, there is another way in which you could greatly please me,—if you—but I think you know.”
Patty did know what was coming, but she affected ignorance. “’Most any way, Lady Van, I’m glad to please you, but I think this Orfling Home plan the most feasible and practicable. When shall us begin?”
“But I’m not thinking of that just now. Patty, you dear girl,—don’t you—can’tyou bring yourself to care for Philip?”
“Oh, I do care for Phil. I care for him a lot. We’re the greatest chums. He’ll help us with the new scheme, won’t he?”
“But I mean to care for him, especially. The way he cares for you.”
“Now, dear Lady Van, let’s not discuss that today. I’m so busy getting this matter of Milly fixed up, I can’t turn to other topics. Don’t you think it would be nice for me to get a sort of wardrobe together for her, before she goes to Mrs. Colton’s?”
“No. I think it would be ridiculous! Mrs. Colton has plenty of means, and she has taste and knows what is right and proper for the child far better than you do. Give the baby a parting gift if you like—I’ll give her one myself. I’ll give her a silver porringer. She’s ’most too big for a porringer, but she can keep it for an heirloom. The one I mean to give her is an old Dutch one of real value. But, Patty, as to Philip.”
“Not now, please, Lady Van, dear,” and Patty put her fingers to her ears.
“Well, some other time, then. But, Patty, if you could learn to care for my boy, I’d—I’d make you my heir.”
“Oh, fie, fie, Lady Van! You’re trying to buy my young affections? Now, you mustn’t do that. And, too, don’t you know that the best way to make me dislike Phil is to continually urge him upon me.”
Mrs. Van Reypen looked a little taken aback at this, and immediately dropped the subject, for which Patty was devoutly thankful. She did like Philip, but she did not want his aunt arranging affairs for her, for Patty was an independent nature, and especially so where her plans for her own future were concerned.
So she gladly turned the conversation back to the matter of the Children’s Home, and soon realised that Mrs. Van Reypen was greatly in earnest about it, and that it might soon become a reality.