“You had better paint something,” Adelaide said; “and you must take charge of the art department.”
“If I can come to town,” I said. “And I will start the movement before I go by asking Professor Waite to get contributions from his artist friends before he goes abroad.”
“I have been greatly touched by one thing,” said Winnie. “The interest which the Terwilligers have taken in this scheme. I happened to mention it to Polo, and the entire family have risen to the occasion. Mrs. Terwilliger sent word that she wouldn’t consider it too much if she worked for us to her dying day, considering the way her young ones had been ‘done for’ while she was sick. She has been collecting scraps of silk for a long time past to make a crazy quilt, and she intends to donate it to us. I fear me it will be a horror; but it shows her good-will all the same. Terwilliger, the trainer, says he means to collect sticks from noted places during Mr. Van Silver’s coaching tour, to be made into canes and other souvenirs for us. Polo will not have time to work for the fair, for she must sew with Miss Billings this summer. I wish she could go to the country instead.”
“I am going to invite her to Deerfield for August,” said Adelaide. “The Home children ought to be able to do something for the fair. Have you thought of them, Winnie?”
“Emma Jane will see that they manufacture a quantity of little articles in their sewing class,” Winnie replied. “They can hem towels and make bibs and bags and useful articles. I am really sorry that we cannot have the reception at the Home, for I would like to have people see those nice, fat babies.”
“They shall see them,” Milly replied. “I’ve an idea. We will devote one afternoon at the fair to a baby show. Do you remember the bicycle drill? Well, I will get Stacey to lend me his artillery tactics, and I will get up some manœuvres with baby carriages. We will call it the infantry brigade. The older children shall wheel the carriages. I will drill them without the babies at first. And then we will have them well strapped in, and then there will be a triumphal procession by twos and fours, and I’ll deploy them in line and draw them up in a hollow square, and make them ‘present arms,’ and ‘carry’ and ‘shoulder arms,’ and double quick and charge. It will be lots of fun; and one baby carriage shall have a flag fastened to it, for that baby must be the colour bearer, and we’ll have music, of course, and medals for all the babies. Then when people see what a lot of children we have, with no annex to put them in, they will rise to the occasion and contribute.”[3]
“I think something of the kind might really be arranged,” Winnie replied. “The Hornets are sure to be equally fertile in expedients. I foresee that the plan will be a great success, and it has one admirable feature—it will reunite us all in New York next winter for a week at least, and I wonder what will happen after that.”
“I do not ask to see
The distant scene; one step enough for me,”
said Adelaide softly, quoting from “Lead, Kindly Light,” her favorite hymn. There was something strangely vibrant in her tone. I knew without looking that Adelaide was on the point of tears, but I was at a loss to understand the reason.