“Oh, we’ll get the money somehow!” asserted Daisy, confidently. “I’ll put it up to Marj Wilkinson, and she’ll find a way!” Ever since Marjorie had been so instrumental in uniting her sister Olive with her husband, Daisy had come to regard her as resourceful in a crisis of almost any variety.
“The important thing now,” remarked Mrs. Evans, “is to care for the baby at the present, and let the future take care of itself. If the woman lives, Daisy will be responsible for saving her life; for I am sure she would have died if you had not sent her to the hospital. Now—suppose you girls all get to work! Edith, run across the street and borrow enough of little Bobbie’s clothing to dress the baby clean! Florence, you go to the drug store for a nursing bottle; and Daisy, you help me to bathe her. Once we get her comfortable, we can begin to think about what to buy.”
The girls separated to carry out the older woman’s orders, Daisy secretly delighted that the task she had been assigned kept her there with the baby.
Almost immediately Edith returned with the borrowed outfit, and Mrs. Evans proceeded to undress the child. The state of her clothing was really pitiful; indeed, it could hardly be dignified by that name, but rather resembled rags, held together by safety-pins. Moreover, they were soiled, and little Betty herself was none too clean.
But soap and warm water wrought wonders, and under Mrs. Evans’s skillful handling the little creature was soon snugly tucked in bed, sucking at the bottle of diluted milk which was propped up by her side. All of the girls felt a secret thrill at the transformation they had witnessed, and even Florence began to regret her hastiness in denouncing Daisy’s action.
It was not until the baby was asleep and they were all down in the living room that Mrs. Evans remembered that she had a telephone message for the girls.
“Marjorie Wilkinson phoned,” she said, “and said she would stop here on her way to Lily’s, so I persuaded her to stay to supper. She finally admitted that she was not expected there until after supper, because it seems the Andrews all have to go to a wedding.”
“Oh, Joy!” cried Daisy, jumping to her feet in delight. “Just the very person we want to see! Who ever heard of such luck?”
“Of course it will be great to see Marj,” agreed Florence; “but why do you say she is ‘just the person we want to see’—any more than any other of our best friends?”
“Why, because she’ll be able to help us plan how to take care of little Betty!” replied Daisy, immediately.