Part 28 (1/2)

Drusilla hesitated again.

”Another 'home.' I hate to--”

”It's the only thing to do, Miss Doane. You can't mix the colors.”

”Well, perhaps you'd better.”

Dr. Eaton left the room, and returned after a few moments with a shake of his head.

”No good! They say they're full. They can't take in another child.

I telephoned another one downtown that they told me of, and they say the same thing. It seems there is a superfluity of colored babies just now. I guess it'll have to be the police station.”

”What'll they do with him? If we can't find a place to-night, they can't.”

”No; perhaps not. But they'll keep him until they do find a place.”

”Well, if they can keep him, so can I. I'll keep him until we find a place for him. Ring for James and f.a.n.n.y and we'll put him to bed.”

James came and the little girl mother, and the baby was placed in James's outraged arms.

”Now, James, don't drop him--he won't bite you. Take him to the children's room; and you, f.a.n.n.y, see that he has something to eat and a bath. Now you be jest as nice to him as to the other babies. Give him your baby's bed and take your baby in with you to-night.”

As James left the room with the baby in his arms, which were stretched out as far from his body as he could carry them, and with his head held disdainfully in the air, Drusilla sat back in her chair and chuckled.

”Ain't James havin' new experiences? His back says, 'This didn't never happen to me when I was in the Duke's house'!”

Dr. Eaton rose to go.

”I'll find some place to put him to-morrow, Miss Doane. It's good of you to take him tonight.”

Drusilla went with him to the door.

”Good night, Doctor. Things do seem to be kind of comin' my way.

I've got Swedes and Dutch and Irish and Jews, and now a n.i.g.g.e.r baby.

It's a mighty good thing for me that the heathen Chinee is barred.

Good night.”

CHAPTER IX

Drusilla waited several days for the return of the money that she had loaned her visitor from Adams, and when it did not come she was prevailed upon to write to the son of her old friend, Dr. Friedman, asking him regarding the man. The doctor answered that there was no man by the name of John Gleason in Adams; that the Spring Valley Stock Farm was owned by a man named Gleason who had no brother; and that this particular man had never lived in the small village, where every one was known. Drusilla was thoroughly aroused. It was her first experience with a confidence man. It hurt her pride, as she had said; but it hurt her worse to know that people did such things.

”It jest destroys my belief in human natur', and I'll never trust no one again,” she said to John.

It was only about a week after the receipt of the letter from the doctor, when she was still smarting from her wounded feelings, that she was told a clergyman wanted to see her personally. She found a quiet little man, dressed in black.

”Miss Doane,” he said with a smile, ”I am the Presbyterian clergyman from Adams, your old home, and as I was in town I thought I would come to see you.”