“What do you make of it?” laughed Polly.
“Wonderful—but what is your plan?”
“Seeing his name is Billy, and his eyes are dark brown and his hair golden curls, and he is about sixteen months old—all of which are in his favor to advance my little scheme, I should say that we try to keep him a few weeks, right now, and see if we can add to Billy’s winsome ways. Meanwhile, we will use every effort to find if he has any relatives; then should he be a veritable foundling, we will present him to dear Mr. Dalken for his very own.”
“Splendiferous! Perfectly great!” cried Eleanor, slapping her friend on the back in her delight.
“We will quietly advertise for and select a fine elderly nurse for Billy, right off, and when we have him all ready to be given away, he will be a little wonder that no one can refuse.”
“Oh, Mr. Dalken won’t think of refusing him, I know! He will be so happy to have a boy again,” Eleanor said, enthusiastically.
Several times during the day, the telephone rang and someone asked for a description of the baby. Also a number of wild looking people called at the address to have a look at the child, but all departed with forlorn hopes.
As that night was not a class-evening, the girls were free to do as they liked with their time. Anne and her mother were amusing themselves, as much as the baby, by teaching him to say ‘Billy.’ Polly and Eleanor were eagerly watching results. But harshly upon this sweet scene, the door-bell jangled.
“I’ll go!” called Eleanor, and in another minute she had opened the door.
“Oh, Mr. Fabian. Do come in and see our baby!”