“Well, you know she is much interested in doing charity things, for the poor, poor babies, especially, so I thought if we went down to Mrs. McGonigle’s and told her we would take care of the twins this afternoon, we could display our charitable interests to aunt Eunice, and she might stop just looking over the tops of our heads.”
Betsy looked doubtful. “They are such dirty, smelly babies,” she said. “They always smell sour and as if their clothes hadn’t been washed in ages and ages.”
“I know; but I suppose that is generally the way with poor babies whose mothers don’t have time to attend to them properly. We could bathe them ourselves, but I suppose it wouldn’t do to wash their clothes, for we have nothing we could put on while theirs were drying.” Elizabeth would not have hesitated at the undertaking, given the change of clothes.
Betsy, who had taken to heart the fact that her usually popular Elizabeth was scorned by the haughty lady with white hair and majestic mien, was ready to do anything which might establish her friend in aunt Eunice’s good graces, so the two set off for Mrs. McGonigle’s rickety house. It was not a specially attractive place to the girls, although Bert usually found it so, as for some reason he preferred the society of Patsy McGonigle to that of any other of his schoolmates. Mrs. McGonigle took in washing, and there was always a queer, steamy smell arising from suds and wet clothes. There was, too, always a baby; just now there were two, the twins of whom Elizabeth had spoken.
Mrs. McGonigle, bending over her wash-tubs, looked up as the little girls entered and made their request to be allowed to take the babies for an airing. “Hear to that now,” she cried in a hearty voice. “Glory be to Peter, but I’ll not be refusin’ such a little thing as that. Will I let ’em go? I will then, and be thankful to yez for takin’ the pair ’av ’em offen me hands. Me husband, pore, weakly sowl that he is, has been ailin’ more than usual, an’ I’ve me hands full without watchin’ the little wans.”
Elizabeth and Betsy did not stand upon further ceremony, but each picked up a blue-eyed wondering baby and took it on her lap.
Mrs. McGonigle stripped her hands of suds and remarked: “I’d better be givin’ thim a sup before they go, so they’ll not be gittin’ hungry the while and be onaisy.”
The girls thought this a good plan and yielded up their charges to be fed. When they had had their fill Mrs. McGonigle produced two much soiled worsted shawls in which the babies were wrapped. “There, now,” exclaimed the mother, “they’ll be as warm as if they was in St. Peter’s pocket, the darlin’s. If they do be onaisy or cryin’ ye’ll be bringin’ thim home, young ladies.”
The girls promised and bore off the babies, the mother watching them with pride, pleased that they should want her babies and yet quite satisfied that two such attractive infants as hers must naturally be desirable.
The two girls toiled up the street with their unaccustomed burdens. Presently Betsy stopped. “Mine’s getting pretty heavy,” she said.