“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!”