With a last look at the sleepy cherub, and a good-night to the friends living in the Studio, the four New Yorkers went out.
“Where shall he sleep to-night?” asked Anne.
“Let me have him?” cried Polly.
“Oh—I found him first—let me have him,” begged Eleanor.
“No, girls; babies should sleep absolutely alone. I will get a drawer from the high-boy and rig him up a nice little bed therein. To-morrow night he will be in his own home, most likely,” explained Mrs. Stewart.
So saying, she hurried upstairs, and in a short time returned, carrying the drawer. Anne and the two girls helped cushion it softly, and then they placed Billy in it.
He was asleep almost before the bed was ready, and the moment his head sank into the soft pillow, he closed his eyes.
“He seems unusually good, Anne,” ventured Mrs. Stewart, as the four foster mothers stood gazing down at the flushed little baby-face.
“And very pretty for a young child,” added Anne.
“Well,” sighed Polly, “I suppose we’ll have to hand him back in the morning.”