“Let’s take it to school,” suggested Cricket.
“How could we? Baby, what is your name, and where do you live?”
Baby uttered a gurgle that doubtless meant volumes, but which the girls could not interpret. She was a Dutchy-looking little thing, with a wide, chubby face and squat little figure. Her little flaxen pig-tails were about an inch and a half long, and were tied with white string.
“Shall we take her to the police station? Let’s hurry, whatever we do. It’s ’most nine.”
“The police station? and have the poor little atom locked up in a big, black cell?” exclaimed Eunice, indignantly. “Never!” for her ideas as to the exact advantage of taking a lost child to a police station were somewhat vague.
“Let’s take her to the little bake-shop woman by the school, and leave her there for the morning, anyway. I’m sure she’ll take care of her. We’ll take her home after school, and papa will see about her.”
Eunice assenting to this proposal, they now took up the line of march. People glanced and smiled at the funny, dirty baby, with the handkerchief that Eunice tied over its head, and the two well-dressed children, but they did not notice it.
“Eunice, we might adopt it!” cried Cricket suddenly. “Wouldn’t that be fun? It could play with Kenneth, and ’Liza wouldn’t mind one more child to take care of.”
“What fun!” exclaimed Eunice. “And if ’Liza didn’t want the trouble we could do it ourselves. It could sleep in a crib in our room. I’d wash it one morning, and you could the next.”
“Yes, and we’d spend Saturday mornings making its clothes.”