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.

From MILLY’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 sure _I_ care to adopt her.”

“I should say _not_!” 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 never _did_ have 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 her _I_ don’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 are _ever_ so 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, what _can_ I 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, _I_ don’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, I _must_ invent 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! I _dare_ you to!”