Part 19 (2/2)
”Miss Doane, you have a wonderful chance to do something great. I envy you for the chance. Just think of being able to take these little waifs and provide a place for them to grow up into the men and women that it was intended they should be! Whenever I go down to the orphan asylum and see all the little tads herded around in bunches by paid nurses, and no one really caring for them, no one tucking them up at night, no one singing them little songs, no one hearing their evening prayers, it seems to me that I _must_ take them all away with me. It seems that we are all wrong in a world where a Great Master whose teaching we are supposed to follow said, 'Suffer the little children to come unto me,' when we allow them to be turned into little machines, unloved and uncared for. Oh, Miss Doane, you've got a great chance. _Take it!”_
Drusilla frankly wiped the tears from her eyes.
”Dr. Eaton, you almost make me cry. But where'll I put 'em?”
”How big is this house? You don't use it all, do you?”
”Use it all! Well, I should say not. I feel like a pea in a tin can shakin' around loose. Young man, there's twelve empty bedrooms in this place and I don't know how many other rooms that's goin' to waste.”
”There you are! Why not fill them up? Of what use are they lying empty?”
”That's what I often think, and I wonder why one old woman's got so many rooms when there's lots of people ain't got no place to go. It don't seem jest right.”
”Of course it isn't right. You've too much; a great many have nothing. Now even up.”
”Who'll I git to take care of 'em?”
”We'll have to figure that out.”
”We'll have to figure it out mighty sudden. I got them young ones pretty well pa.s.seled out among the hired help, and they ain't enjyin'
them so much as I am. First thing I know the hull cahoots of 'em'll leave, though speakin' for a few of 'em it wouldn't cause me to go to an early grave to be shet of some of 'em.”
”I must be off. I'll think it over and let you know what I've figured out for you.”
”Well, hurry up about it. It's a lot to think of. I never thought I'd take to raisin' children at my time of life; but you never can tell what you'll end as. I'm pretty old to begin, I'm afraid.”
”Come now, Miss Doane; don't get cold feet. One is never too old to try something. If it doesn't work, you can always send them to the police that Mr. Thornton tells you about. They're always there; so are the homes.”
”Yes; that's so. And they wouldn't be no worse off'n when they come.
Well--you run along and start somethin'.”
”Yes, we'll start something, Miss Doane.”
Dr. Eaton went away, and the next morning he got an excited telephone call from Drusilla herself, which showed that it was of the utmost importance to her and even overcame her dislike of talking into a ”box,” as she called it.
”Come right over, Dr. Eaton; come right over at once,” she said.
”I've got another baby and they've caught the mother.”
Dr. Eaton lost no time in coming to Drusilla, and he found a very excited little woman, with her hat and gloves on, waiting for him.
”Don't come in; I'll tell you on the way. I've got the car and my bunnet's on, so we'll go along.”
Drusilla did not stop to explain but stepped into the car, and gave directions to the chauffeur.
Dr. Eaton laughed.
”Why all this hurry, Miss Doane? Is something afire?”
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