She patted his arm soothingly. “There, there. Go to bed; you’re tuckered out. Leave me alone for two months, and I’ll tell you. And suppose you write down that milk formula before you go; he’s going to wake up as fighting hungry as a little tiger-cat.”
How the sanitarium took the news of the arrivals and the rumor of the adoption, what they thought of the gorgeous and irresponsible señora and Leerie’s latest exploit, does not concern the story. It is enough to say that tongues wagged abundantly; and when Sheila appeared some ten days later in the pine grove wheeling a perambulator every one who was out and could manufacture the flimsiest excuse for her curiosity hurried to the carriage and thrust an inquisitive head under the hood. It seemed as if hundreds blocked the walk from the pond to the rest-house.
“Bad as a circus parade,” thought Sheila. “Can’t stay here, or they’ll put us in a tent and ask admission.” Then she spied Hennessy coming with his platter of bread for the swans, and called to him. Somehow he managed to scatter the crowd, and Sheila clung to the sleeve of his blue jumper as if it had been so much cork to a man overboard. “Listen, Hennessy, I want to take Pancho away from the San. You and Marm have a cozy place, and it’s far enough away. There’s only the two of you. Can’t you take us in?”
But Hennessy was likewise thrusting a head under the hood. “Honest to God, Miss Leerie, is it human?”
“Hennessy, don’t be an idiot!”
“But I saw the face on it—an’ the scratchin’ it did the day it was fetched in. Does it still be scratchin’?”
“Sometimes.” Sheila smiled faintly. “He hasn’t had time yet to forget all those shakings. Well, can we come?”
Hennessy eyed the perambulator fearsomely. “Have to ask Marm. Faith, do ye think, now, if it had been human, its mother would have given it away same as if it had been a young cat or dog too many in the litter?”
“Mothers don’t have to love their babies; there’s no birth license to sign, you know, with a love-and-cherish clause in it. Just come, wanted or not, and afterward—”
But Hennessy was deep in speculations of his own. “Now if it was Ireland, Miss Leerie, do ye know what I would be thinkin’?”