“Yes, that must be the reason,” agreed Ruth.
Mr. Fabian listened attentively and approved of Mrs. Ashby’s advice to her daughter.
No one came to claim Billy, and the days passed swiftly for the self-appointed mothers of the boy. He was so merry and good-natured a child, that Mrs. Stewart sighed when she thought of the Studio without him. Before November passed, he could walk all alone and even tried to climb the stairs.
Martha was a jewel with him. She never seemed too tired to do things for him. She it was, who taught him his table manners and insisted upon his saying “Plee” and “Tant” for anything. He could say “Dadda” and “Biddy”—the latter meaning himself.
Polly and Eleanor spent every spare moment teaching him new accomplishments, so that before the middle of Thanksgiving month, the boy really was unusually precocious and well-behaved.
Mr. Dalken returned to New York the third week in November and immediately sent out cards to his friends for a dinner-party. It was very private, only the circle acquainted with Polly and Eleanor were to be his guests. But they had a good time, nevertheless, and Mr. Dalken appeared more cheerful than of yore.
“Now what do you suppose I called you together for?” said he, after the table had been cleared of the roast and everyone was ready to listen while waiting for salad.
“Dear me, I hope you are not going to spring a sensational surprise on us!” Eleanor said, her face expressing worry.
Everyone laughed, but Mr. Dalken said: “What would you call a sensation?”
“Oh, well! in case you were married while in Chicago! That would ruin my hopes,” interpolated Polly, anxiously.