“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!”