The police-department had sent their detective to get all the facts from Eleanor and Polly, and the press had sent to find out if there was any other clue or information about the boy; then, no further interruptions took place that day.
The two girls sat out under the locust tree in the yard, because there they could hear the first whimper from Billy, when he awoke from his nap. As they sat there, they discussed his future.
“If no one ever calls for him, what shall we do with him?’ asked Polly, giving Eleanor a penetrating look.
“You’ve got something on your mind—what is it?” countered Eleanor.
“Yes, I have, but I want to hear what you have to say.”
“I’d love to keep him, Polly—at least as long as we are in New York. I suppose it would be impossible to take him abroad with us, next summer,” returned Eleanor.
“Yes—impossible. And if we keep him with us, we will have to hire a nurse-maid, as poor Mrs. Stewart can’t look after a lively youngster all day, while we are at school.”
“What was your idea, then?” wondered Eleanor.
“Can’t you guess, Nolla? And his name is Billy, too!”
For an instant Eleanor’s face looked too surprised to allow her to speak. Then she stammered: “Well—of all things!”