CHAPTER XV--THE FOUNDLING

The sad story told the girls, about their friend Mr. Dalken, filled them with love and compassion for the great-hearted man, and they wondered how they could do _something_ for him that would not only show their appreciation of his kindness to them, but at the same time give him pleasure or happiness. But there seemed no material thing that he needed, and really, nothing that one could do for him.

"There must be times when he sits alone brooding over his boy and how different things might have been had he married a different type of woman," remarked Eleanor, one evening, after leaving their new class-room.

"Yes; but it seems to me he should have been able to see through such a shallow thing as that woman must have been, when he returned from college and found her apparently waiting for him," Polly replied.

"But he's so tender-hearted, you see, he couldn't bear to give her any pain or trouble. That must have been the only reason why he allowed her to get him."

"I suppose so. Why, even now, he is an easy prey to the scheming people who know he has barrels of money, and who simply pretend to be friendly for what they can get out of him."

"It's too bad he can't be satisfied with just Mr. Ashby and Mr. Fabian for man friends, and we few women for his women friends," mused Eleanor. "We'd love him for himself."

Polly smiled. "Wouldn't you and I give him a gay time--with high-school keeping us employed every week-day, and art class every other night in the week, to say nothing of lectures, exhibitions, and other things that Mr. Fabian has us do, in line with our work."

The two girls had crossed Madison and Fourth avenues by this time, and were slowly walking down the street towards the Studio. It was a beautiful Fall night, and the moon was almost full, hence they were in no hurry to reach home and go indoors.

"I hear Anne singing--she must have company," said Polly as they neared the house.

"Yes; the windows are open in the living-room, and I can peep under the shades and see Anne at the piano," whispered Eleanor.

Just then the breeze wafted one of the shades back from the window, and the girls recognised Mrs. Evans and Mrs. Latimer as the guests of Anne.

"Let's hurry in!" exclaimed Eleanor, suddenly turning from the front window and darting into the vestibule.

The outside door was open wide, and as Eleanor ran up the one step that raised the tiled entrance from the sidewalk, she stumbled over a soft bundle that seemed pushed against the wall.

By this time, Polly also reached the vestibule, but the inside door being closed and locked for protection, it was too dark in the vestibule for either of the girls to see what the huge bundle contained.

"It feels like a bundle of old clothes. Maybe some servant hid it here for a time--she may be going to come back for it," observed Eleanor, prodding the bundle with her foot.

But to the surprise of both girls, a little squeal issued from the roll. In the semi-darkness, they stood spell-bound and gazed at each other.

"It's a baby--of all things!" cried Polly, hastily trying the handle of the door.

"Ring--ring the bell like mad. I'll pick it up!" Eleanor exclaimed, excitably.

"Open the door--Anne--hurry up! We've found a baby!" called Polly, leaning over the iron rail that projected over the area door, in front of the windows.

Both girls forgot that they had latch keys, but Mrs. Evans sat nearest the window where Polly stood, and quickly answered her call. Eleanor, meanwhile, had carefully picked up the rolled-up baby and, the moment the door was flung open, carried it indoors.

"Where did you find it?" exclaimed four amazed women.

"Right at our door--in the vestibule," said Eleanor, placing her bundle on the divan and proceeding to open it.

"Wasn't anyone in sight?" asked Mrs. Latimer, cautiously.

"Not that we noticed; but, of course, we never thought to look, when we found what was in the bundle," explained Polly, nervously eager to assist Eleanor in what she was doing.

Before the swaddling blankets were released from the baby, it began to utter baby-talk. The females, grouped closely in front of the divan, smiled appreciatively.

Finally the last wrapper, which was of mosquito netting, came off, and there lay a chubby little fellow of about fifteen months. He had a fist in his mouth, and with the other dimpled hand he clutched at Polly's hair as she leaned over him.

"Oh! Isn't he a darling! He must belong to a neighbor!" exclaimed Mrs. Stewart.

"He certainly is not starved or poorly cared for," added Mrs. Evans, with experienced voice.

"But he only has on his nightie! Not another stitch to be found," said Anne, carefully rolling the baby over to see if he had any clothes under him.

"There's a note--pinned on the blanket!" cried Polly, anxiously removing the pin and taking the paper over to the light.

"It says--just one word--'Billy.' Did you ever!" exclaimed Polly, glancing from one to the other of the friends who were waiting expectantly to hear about the boy.

"Let's see!" demanded Eleanor, frowning at such a short explanation.

Polly handed the slip of paper to her friend and joined Anne at the divan where she was divesting the boy of his nightie to see if further clues might be found. About his fat neck was a very fine gold chain, and suspended from that was a tiny flat heart-shaped locket. It did not open, but on the plain gold face was a monogram of three letters: B-- D-- W--.

"Now we've got something to work on! 'B' stands for Billy, of course, but what can 'D' and 'W' mean?" Eleanor said excitedly.

"No child is christened 'Billy,'" Anne contradicted. "He would be 'William'--and that is what the 'W' is for. Children are nicknamed 'Billy' or 'Willy' later. Now his middle and last name must begin with the 'B' and 'D'--or vice versa."

"Shake out the blankets carefully--perhaps another paper is pinned to one of them," said Polly, eagerly.

But there was no other message in the blankets.

"Let's take off his flannel shirt! There may be something there," ventured Mrs. Stewart.

In less than a minute, the pins were out and the woven shirt of Merino was removed, but no further information rewarded the anxious seekers. So the shirt was carefully replaced and the boy's nightie slipped over his head again.

"It's all hand-made of fine linen," remarked Mrs. Latimer, as she felt of the hem at the bottom.

"And one can see that he is no slum child," added Mrs. Evans.

"_Who_ can he be? and why should anyone want to leave him?" were the perplexing questions Polly asked of the others.

They all shook their heads and wondered. But the boy had no use for such condolences; he crawled over the divan and when he found not what he was in search of, he screwed up his dimpled face and began a lusty call.

Anne instantly took him up and began to chirp to him. He smiled a cheerful thanks and showed eight little front teeth. That brought all his new friends to his feet--metaphorically speaking.

"_Isn't_ he a dear!" declared Mrs. Stewart to no one in particular.

"Yes, but we have to advertise him at once. It may be that a villain kidnapped him and ran away with him just to get a reward. He may have been seen, or chased by the police, and then dropped the baby in our vestibule," said Mrs. Latimer.

Anne laughed. "Which analysis shows that one of us married a lawyer--Mrs. Latimer gives us good advice."

"Or he may belong to a young mother who cannot longer earn a living for him," added Mrs. Stewart.

"That's not likely, mother," returned Anne. "As the child would look thin and sickly if a mother found it hard to support it. I rather think it is a babe that belongs to some distracted mother in the neighborhood. He has evidently been put to bed for the night. Possibly a vindictive nurse-girl took him from his home to make his parents seek for him and then left him at the most convenient door."

"Anne's reason sounds the most plausible, and we'd better 'phone the police-stations at once. Billy's parents may even now be wild with despair, for we do not know how long he was in the vestibule. All we know is, he was not there when we came in, about eight o'clock," said Mrs. Evans.

So she telephoned the police-stations, near by, and also asked the morning papers to run a short notice under a suitable caption. Before she had finished this work, however, Master Billy began his complaints again, and now he was beginning to look as impatient as such a good-natured baby could.

"Maybe he's hungry?" suddenly suggested Mrs. Stewart.

"That's just what ails him--but we haven't any bottle!" exclaimed Mrs. Evans.

"Perhaps he drinks from a cup--he is old enough to have been weaned, you know," ventured Mrs. Latimer.

A cup of warmed milk was brought in short order, and Mrs. Stewart held it out to Anne, as she was still holding the baby. The moment Billy saw the cup, he almost leaped from Anne's arms, and immediately began gurgling for very glee.

Everyone laughed at his antics, and Anne was about to hold the cup to his lips, when two fat hands clutched at it in a hungry endeavor to reach the contents. Of course, part of the milk spilled on his nightie but the remainder he drank greedily.

"He's well-trained--whoever he is. I should say that he has had every attention in the past, to have him act like this at his age," said Mrs. Latimer.

"But we don't know how old he is. He may be months older than we thought for," argued Mrs. Evans.

"Well, he isn't more than eighteen months at the most," declared Mrs. Stewart.

Polly and Eleanor stood silently by listening to these experienced mothers, but Anne smiled indulgently at them, and kept her opinions to herself.

Dr. Evans and Mr. Latimer stopped for their wives, and when they had heard and been shown the fine boy, they gave their masculine opinions.

"A baby who was boarded out, and the parents hadn't paid up recently. So the woman left him on the first door-step to get rid of him," was the doctor's verdict.

"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."