“Yes—” sighed Polly, mournfully. “That’s the worst of having a dog or a baby that you become so fond of.”
“But you will see Billy three nights a week, and you never could have kept him for yourselves, you know,” said Mr. Fabian.
Thanksgiving Day Martha seemed all upset. The idea of moving the baby to a new home, and perhaps not being welcome, made her cry softly, now and then. The little family at the Studio, instead of being very grateful for all the blessings they had had during the past year, went about looking forlorn and miserable.
They went to the Latimers for dinner that noon, and left Martha with the baby. It had been planned that they would get back home by eight o’clock and accompany their baby-gift over to Mr. Dalken’s apartment. Billy would be placed in bed where his new foster father would find him, and then would come the joy of it all.
The plans worked out as expected to a certain degree. Mr. Dalken went up to the Ashbys for dinner, and a little after eight o’clock, a mournful procession wended its way from the Studio door. Martha carried Billy carefully. Polly and Eleanor carried the tub, chair, and other articles of use for the baby. Anne carried the bundles of clothing, and Mrs. Stewart carried the milk-warmer, the other food-equipment, and the extra blankets.
Mr. Dalken’s chauffeur opened the door to admit the visitors, but when he saw the burdens the ladies carried, he was speechless. Eleanor tried to explain that they had a new boy for Mr. Dalken, but Henri seemed not to appreciate the fact.
Billy was gurgling and trying to get his active fists out of the quilted blanket, but Martha held him firmly until she had him in the bedroom where Mr. Dalken slept.
“We are going to leave him right in the middle of this big bed, Henri, so his new father will find him when he comes in to-night,” explained Eleanor, arranging the baby’s bedding on the large expanse of bed-spread.
Billy was arrayed for the night, and everyone kissed him tearfully, as if he was about to be placed in his coffin. Then Martha gave him a drink of warm milk and placed him in his blankets.
Hardly had they tucked him up, before the bell at the entrance rang imperatively. Henri glanced distractedly at the baby and then at the other visitors, before he turned to answer the call. It rang a second time before he opened the door.