Patty's Fortune

“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. What will Dad 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 of my doing!”

“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. She is a 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.

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!”

CHAPTER XIV

A GREAT SUCCESS

Patty always declared afterward, that Chick hypnotised her, and that she never would 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 she must go 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: “I must have 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 you will take 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.

“But I want 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.”