Mr. Fabian was speechless, then he smiled. “Does our friend know about this?”
“Mercy sakes, no! We want to surprise him. We thought it would be fine, if we could keep the baby that long, to leave him at Mr. Dalken’s apartment on Thanksgiving morning,” returned Polly.
“Don’t you think he would like that?” from Eleanor, eagerly.
“Mr. Dalken is now out west on important business, so of course, he doesn’t know a thing about Billy, unless he read about it in the New York papers,” remarked Mr. Fabian, thoughtfully. “I don’t suppose he will take time to glance over every news item in the papers, as he is too preoccupied, at present, with the financial pages.”
“Well, what has that to do with our plan?” asked Eleanor.
“He won’t know a thing about the baby, and you can easily keep the idea secret until Thanksgiving, if you can get the right kind of a woman to take daily care of the boy. Of course, you were going to do that, anyway, were you not?”
“I suppose so—we really hadn’t got as far as that in our planning,” admitted Polly.
“But we will, Mr. Fabian, now that you have mentioned it. How shall we know if we have the right sort of nurse?” added Eleanor.
“I’ll call up Ashby. I was there for dinner to-night, and they told me of a woman they know well, who is compelled to earn her living, because of family reverses. Shall we stop in the hotel across the street and use the booth there?”