II
The following day a pair of handsome grays stopped before the Corpus-Christi Orphanage. Mrs. Theddon alighted from her carriage, instructed her coachman to wait and went up the broken steps to the grim front door.
The Orphanage was a mediocre double house in the poorer quarter of the city; only a battered sign tacked to the greenish clapboards indicated its character. Mrs. Theddon’s ring was answered by an angular female who believed in infant damnation, the prohibition issue and the curse of the idle rich. Her hair was drawn tightly from her square, sallow forehead, her shoulders were sharp, her face on a man would have created a perfect butler for the lower class motion pictures.
“I am Mrs. Gracia Theddon,” announced the first, “and I have called to see you about a certain child you have here—a little Allegra Something-or-other.”
“You mean you want to adopt her?”
“If it’s possible.”
“It isn’t possible! Allegra’s my own.”
“So I understand. But I want little Miss Allegra myself and I’m—well—I’m prepared to make it worth while to be reasonable.”
Thereat the Howland person thawed somewhat,—not much.
“Come in,” she conceded.
She led the way into a bare cheerless “office.” Mrs. Theddon sat down and raised her black veil.
“I saw the child in the Park yesterday. I talked with her. And when I got home last night—in bed—I realized—how very much I should like to have such a little girl. I have no children. My husband was killed last year in the Philippines.”
Miss Howland, it developed, was a “toe-tapper” and a Competent Person. Moreover, she had dealt with finicky patronesses of the Orphanage for years. She tapped her toe now, though her face maintained its wooden expression.
“So I understand, Mrs. Theddon. But you see—I also love Allegra—she is such a help to me about the place——”
“You don’t make that delicate little girl work!”
“No, no! Not work! Merely a few chores to give her a sense of responsibility—looking after the younger children and all that. They are an awful care at times, Mrs. Theddon—an awful care.”
Mrs. Theddon was duly solicitous. She knew the Howland type and how to “handle” it. Ten minutes were spent ingratiating herself into the superintendent’s sympathies and the Howland woman thawed.
“But what do you know about the child?” Mrs. Theddon asked.
“They found her in a hayfield over toward Ludlow ten years ago last summer. But no one reported a lost child. When the papers advertised her, no one came forward to identify or claim her. So they brought her here.”
“And you don’t know her last name?”
“Nothing about her whatever. I gave her the name Allegra, and of course when I adopted her, she got my own——”
“Then you have legally adopted her?”
“Well, all the red tape isn’t finished yet. I just say I’ve adopted her when people come here for babies because they always pick the prettiest first. And Leggy’s turned out so clever I could better afford to lose some of the older, homelier ones——”
Mrs. Theddon saw the psychological moment had arrived.
“Miss Howland,” she announced firmly, “I want that child badly. But I don’t want her badly enough to haggle over her. I’ll write you a check this moment for a thousand dollars—and not another cent more. But it’s on the understanding that all the legalities are settled by you with the trustees and the girl is delivered at my home before the coming Saturday!”
If Mrs. Theddon had drawn a revolver and shot the Howland person, the latter could not have sat more totally and adequately stunned.
“A—thou—sand—dol—lars!”
“Exactly. A thousand dollars!” Mrs. Theddon’s patronage had gone. She had the crisp poise she used when bargaining with servants or tradesmen.
It took several moments for Miss Howland to recover. A hundred dollars would have been a great persuader. But a thousand!
Then her narrow, crafty nature roused from the mental stupor which the offer had produced. If the Theddon woman would pay a thousand dollars, she must want the child very much indeed. Miss Howland flattered herself she knew these pampered, petulant women. She gave facial indications of thrust-and-parry.
“I couldn’t——”
“Very well,” announced Mrs. Theddon. “I withdraw my offer and bid you good-day. But I shall use my influence in certain quarters to secure the child without the payment of a cent. I made you a fair offer to avoid legal procedure and undesirable publicity. But now I withdraw it!”
Mrs. Theddon lowered her veil and prepared to depart—which she had not the least intention of doing.
“Wait a moment!” cried Miss Howland weakly. At once she abandoned any attempt to dicker. It was too risky. “I was about to say I couldn’t desire anything better than to think of little Allegra being adopted by a nice lady like yourself——”
Mrs. Theddon produced her check book.