“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.