“Let’s try it for variety’s sake,” laughed Marjorie. “When we get there, I’ll tell you about my new idea for the Lookouts.”
“I’ve thought of one, too,” remarked Constance, “but I’ll save it until later.”
“Come on, then.” Jerry took Muriel by the arm and headed the procession of four down the street. It was only a short walk to Jerry’s find, and four voices lifted themselves in approval of the pretty little shop, done in pale blue and white, with its long marble soda fountain at one side of the spacious room, and its dainty white tables and chairs. Having gleefully ordered several delectable new concoctions of which Sargent’s could not boast, the quartette settled themselves to talk.
“You first, Connie,” decreed Marjorie. “We know you’ve something nice to tell us.”
“I don’t know what you may think of my idea, but here it is. You remember the little gray house that I used to live in. Well, it’s not gray any more. It’s been newly painted a pretty dark green with lighter green trimmings. It has never been rented since we lived there. I suppose the owner thought it never would be unless he had it repainted. You know it is quite near to that large silk mill where so many women work. The majority of them are married women and have to help support their families. They live mostly in tumbledown shacks not far from the mill.
“They have to go to work very early in the morning and don’t get home until after six o’clock in the evening. That means that their poor little children who are too young to go to school have to take care of themselves the best way they can. I’ve often walked through that district and seen those poor tiny tots trying to play by themselves and looking utterly neglected. When I think of how much Charlie now has it makes me feel dreadfully for them. I’ve taken them fruit and toys sometimes, but that doesn’t help much. What they need is good care. For the sake of my own little brother, I wish every child might be happy.” A wealth of pity shone in Constance’s blue eyes as she said this.
“Go on, Connie,” urged Jerry. “I begin to see now what you’re driving at.”
Constance smiled, then continued: “What I thought we might do would be to rent the little gray house and make a day nursery of it. Then these poor women could leave their children at it when they go to work in the morning and come after them at night. You remember how large the sitting room is, Marjorie. It takes up almost all of the downstairs part, and there’s a small kitchen in the rear. We could rent the house for ten dollars a month, and pay some good woman and a young girl to come and look after these children until evening.
“From four until six o’clock each day we could take turns, two of us at a time, going there to play with the children and tell them stories. I have talked it over with my aunt and she agrees to pay for the hired help if the Lookouts would like to do the rest. It wouldn’t cost much to give the children a nice luncheon every day. Of course they would have their breakfasts and suppers at home. We couldn’t afford to serve them with the three meals. But the nursery itself and the luncheon would be free. We wouldn’t care to charge them a cent. As for the furniture, we ought to buy two long tables and some kindergarten chairs. Then we ought to furnish one upstairs room with about four little beds and the rest of the things that go in a bed room. Then we would have a place for any of the children that weren’t feeling very well. There is a nice large yard behind the house where they could play in summer or even in winter when the weather wasn’t too cold. I don’t know how many children would come; about twenty or perhaps twenty-five.” Constance paused and eyed her friends wistfully. Their silence made her wonder if they disapproved of her plan.
“Connie Stevens, you are a perfect dear!” exclaimed Muriel. “That’s the nicest plan I ever heard. I love children, and I’ve often noticed those poor little things that live near the silk mill. I’d be only too glad to give one afternoon a week to them.”