Eunice and Cricket

by Elizabeth Weston Timlow

It was very fortunate that Eliza was the most patient, long-suffering nurse imaginable, for she accepted Mosina as a temporary inmate of the nursery the next day as a matter of course, and looked after her as carefully as after the other children. Jane made another visit to the police station, after breakfast, but only brought back the information that no lost child had yet been reported.

Papa returned about luncheon time, and to his great amazement, was presented to the new member of his family.

“We thought at first we’d like to adopt her, but we’ve come to the conclusion we don’t care much about it,” confessed Eunice frankly, at the end of her tale; “at least, we don’t if she has to sleep with us.”

“Because, papa,” chimed in Cricket, “you see, she’s the restlessest, squirmiest child you ever saw. Oh, yes; she looks mild enough now, but if you felt her wiggle just one night, you’d believe it.”

“You both of you look as if you had been on a prolonged spree,” said Doctor Ward, pinching the rather pale cheeks of his two ex-philanthropists. “Never mind, I’ll look out for the baby. Somebody will be sure to turn up for her.”

And somebody did. About seven o’clock that evening, the somebody marched up the steps and rang the bell furiously. It was a distracted little Dutch woman, who in broken English demanded her baby. Mosina was brought down, but after the first little gurgle of pleasure at seeing her mother, sucked her thumb as placidly as ever, while her mother hugged and kissed her rapturously, pouring forth a stream of mingled Dutch and English. It was some time before she was calm enough to explain the situation.

She went out to work by the day, when she could, and, when she was at work, would often leave the baby at her married sister’s for two days at a time, as the sister lived at a distance, and she would sometimes be too tired to go for her at night. The day before, she had taken her there as usual. However, the little thing must have slipped out and run after her, and the sister thought the mother had taken her, after all. She had to go to work at a place on the other side of the city for two days, and so had not gone for the child the night before, thinking, of course, she was safe, as usual. She was wild with terror when she went there and found that her sister thought she had the child with her. They went immediately to a police station, and soon had the necessary information of the baby’s whereabouts.

The little Dutch mother was overwhelmed with gratitude at the kindness and care her baby had received. She said that the little thing often had croup, and very bad attacks, too.

Mamma, who had returned from Marbury just before dinner, began to talk quietly to the excited little woman, and learned her story. It was very short and very simple. They had come over to this country two years before, and did well till her husband was killed by an accident a few months previous. She spoke so little English that it was hard for her to get work, and their little savings slipped away quickly. Now she was anxious for all the work by the day she could get.

Mrs. Ward listened sympathisingly, promised to speak to her friends about her, and gave her a bundle of Kenneth’s clothes to take home, besides the ones that Mosina was then arrayed in.