Part 33 (2/2)

The visitors arrived at ten o'clock the next morning.

There were four in the party--two men and two women. Mary recognized three of them at the first glance and felt a glow of pride warm her as they seated themselves in her office.

”Not even you,” she thought with a glance at the attentive figures on the walls, ”not even you ever had visitors like these.” And in some subtle manner which I simply cannot describe to you, she felt that the portrayed figures were proud of the visitors, too--and prouder yet of the dreamy-eyed girl who had brought it about, flesh of their flesh, blood of their blood, who was looking so queenly and chatting so quietly to the elect of the earth.

The fourth caller was introduced as Professor Marsh, and Mary soon perceived that he was a hostile critic.

”I shall have to be careful of him,” she thought, ”or I shall be giving him some good, hard bouncers before I know it--and that would never do today.” So putting the temptation behind her she presently said, ”We'll start at the nursery, if you like--any time you're ready.”

You have already seen something of that nursery, its long row of windows facing the south, its awnings, toys, sand-piles and white-robed nurses.

Since then Mary had had time to elaborate the original theme with a kitchen for preparing their majesties' food, linen closets and a rest-room for the nurses.

The chief glory of the nursery, however, was its n.o.ble line of play-rooms, each in charge of two nurses.

”Let's look in here,” said Mary, opening a door.

They came upon an interesting scene. In this room were twelve children, about two years old. The nurses were feeding them. Each nurse sat on the inside of a kidney shaped table, large enough to accommodate six children, but low enough to avoid the necessity for high chairs with the consequent dangling between earth and heaven.

In front of each child was a plate set in a recess in the table--this to guard against overturning in the excitement of the moment--and in each plate was a generous portion of chicken broth poured over broken bread.

It was evidently good. Approval shone on each pink face. A brisk play of spoons and the smacking of lips seemed to be the order of the day.

”Each play room has its own wash room--” said Mary.

She opened another door belonging to this particular suite and disclosed a bathroom with special fixtures for babies. Large bowls, with hot and cold water, were set in porcelain tables.

”What's the use of having so many bath-bowls in this table,” asked Professor Marsh, ”when you only have two nurses to do the bathing?”

”Every woman with a baby has half an hour off in the morning, and another half hour in the afternoon,” he was told. ”In the morning, she bathes her baby. In the afternoon she loves it.”

In the next play-room which they visited, the babies were of the bottle age, and were proving this to the satisfaction of every one concerned.

In the next, refreshments were over; and some of the youngsters slept while others were starting large engineering projects upon the sand pile.

”I never saw such nurseries,” said the most distinguished visitor. He looked at the artistic miniature furniture, the decorations, the low padded seat which ran around the walls--at once a seat and a cupboard for toys. He looked at the sunlight, the screened verandah, the awning, the flowers, the birds hopping over the lawn, the river gleaming through the trees.

”Miss Spencer,” he said, ”I congratulate you. If they could understand me, I would congratulate these happy youngsters, too.”

”But don't you think it's altogether wrong,” said Professor Marsh, ”to deprive a child of the advantages of home life?”

”I read and hear that so often,” said Mary, ”that I have adopted my own method of replying to it.”

She led her visitors into a small room with a low ceiling. It was furnished with a cookstove, a table, a small side-board, an old conch and a few chairs. The floor was splintery and only partly covered by frayed rugs and worn oil cloth. The paper on the walls was a dark mottled green.

The ceiling was discoloured by smoke.

”This is the kitchen of an average wage-earner,” said Mary. ”Some are better. Some are worse. I bought the furniture out of a room, just as it stood, and had the whole place copied in detail.”

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