"No, of course not. But I know that I could earn a little money every week if I wanted to work for it, and I can't bear to think of this darling baby going into an orphan asylum."

Betty leaned over and kissed the dimpled hand as she spoke, looking so tender and motherly that the girls forgot to laugh at her. The baby, who had been sitting contentedly on Ruth's lap, received the kiss with favor, and then looking at the girls hovering around her smiled sweetly as if taking them all into her affection at once.

"Isn't she a perfect dear?" cried Dorothy, going down on her knees before her. "I'm with you, Betty; she shall have most of my allowance every week, and I know that we can get lots of help if we are only in earnest about it."

"I'd just love to have the club do it," said Ruth with her usual enthusiasm. "And wherever I am I shall be a member of the club just the same, and always be ready to help out with little Elsa. I know father and Uncle Jerry will be interested in her, too."

"We can all sew for her," suggested Alice, a proposition which caused Dorothy and Charlotte to look at each other in disgusted silence.

"But where is she going to live?" inquired Katharine, who frequently put a damper on the enthusiasm of her friends by some exceedingly practical question. "We can't plant her out in the square at an equal distance from all of us."

"Oh, dear!" sighed Betty. "I hate to be brought down so suddenly.

I'd forgotten that she'd have to have a home. I was just thinking of clothes and education, and I had it all planned that she should be a great singer or a writer, and take care of us in our old age."

Betty's flight of fancy was so absurd that the girls shouted with laughter, and seeing them so merry little Elsa laughed too, and showed her white teeth.

"She's ail right, girls; she can see a joke," said Charlotte, who in spite of herself began to feel the baby's charm.

"Poor little kiddie! I'm sure she's very brave to laugh at the idea of having to support us all," giggled Ruth.

"Let's ask mother about it," suggested Dorothy, as Mrs. Marshall came into the room, and the busy woman, who was never too much occupied to listen to her daughter's plans, or to lend a helping hand, sat down as calmly as though she had nothing else to do. She had already begun to consider the problem of Elsa's future, and she decided immediately that Betty's idea was a good one, and as helpful for the girls as for the baby.

"You might board her at Mrs. Hall's," she suggested, after listening to a rather disjointed narrative from the entire club.

"Of course. The very thing," murmured Betty. "Why didn't we think of it ourselves?"

"And you must organize your work in a businesslike way," continued Mrs. Marshall. "You might start an Elsa fund with what you can collect among yourselves, no matter how small. Then you can see who will be willing to promise regular subscriptions. You will need a treasurer to take charge of the fund, and a secretary to manage your correspondence."

The girls looked very thoughtful; they had hardly realized that their plan would a.s.sume so much importance.

"You must understand, girls, before you go into this, that you are undertaking a serious thing and one you cannot give up lightly,"

continued their adviser. "For my own part I can't think of any better use to which you can put your energy and your club funds than to the care of this dear, motherless baby. Of course, you know that we shall do all we can to find out if she has any relatives, but there seems small chance of success, as we haven't the slightest clue to follow."

The girls were silent as Mrs. Marshall went out of the room. Then Betty, taking the baby in her arms said, "Come here, littlest club girl; we can't initiate you yet, but you've got six new mothers, and you'll be taken care of to within an inch of your life."

Then began a busy time for the members of the Social Six. Dorothy was made secretary and Charlotte treasurer of the Elsa Fund, which started out with the imposing sum of three dollars, taken bodily from the club treasury.

In order to help the cause along, Mrs. Marshall invited the ladies of the Fortnightly Club to meet at her house, and Betty was persuaded to tell them what the girls hoped to do for the baby. It was rather a halting little speech, but she ended it most effectively by stepping to the door and bringing in little Elsa, who had been waiting in the hall for this very moment. As Betty stood there before them all smiling at the rosy baby in her arms, the sound of Ruth's violin broke the silence. It was the simplest lullaby she was playing, but she made it so tender and appealing that the hearts of the mothers went out to the dear baby who had no mother, and all were eager to help.

By the time Mrs. Hall came in to take Elsa home, a substantial sum was promised for the fund, and duly noted by Charlotte, who comforted herself for her own lack of money by keeping the accounts in the most businesslike manner. It was no small task, for promises of contributions came in so readily that the treasurer was obliged to take most of her spare time out of school to keep her books in order.

To her surprise Melina came to her with an air of great mystery and, first making sure that no one was within sight or hearing, held out to her a five dollar bill.

"I want to git that five dollars off my mind and start it movin',"

she said grimly when Charlotte looked at her in wonder. "No, there ain't no use of your refusing. That baby needs it as much as any one I know just now, and that was the idea, you know, that I should pa.s.s it on."

Charlotte realized that she couldn't refuse without hurting Melina's feelings. "All right," she said, "I'll take it for her, and when she gets old enough to understand it I'll explain that she must start it on again."

For a while it seemed almost as though little Elsa might be hurt by too much care. The six young mothers made all sorts of errands into Mrs. Hall's that they might have a chance to play with the baby, who seemed to love them all with great impartiality. Ruth and Dorothy almost quarreled one afternoon because each claimed the privilege of taking her out and neither one was willing to give up. Just as it threatened to become serious, Betty, who had come in a few minutes later, slipped off with the baby while the other two were arguing. She did it so cleverly that when they discovered her treachery they made common cause against her, and went amiably home together vowing vengeance upon Miss Betty for her slyness.

By the end of three weeks the novelty had worn off a little and the girls no longer struggled to be first in the baby's affections, but were frequently willing to omit going to see her for a day or two. And just then, when the mothers were beginning to smile and shake their heads over the situation, something happened which again made little Miss Elsa the centre of interest.

Mrs. Schmidt, prowling around the blackened ruins of her former home, came upon a metal box, locked and little harmed by the flames, which she remembered as belonging to the baby's mother. In great excitement she took it to Mrs. Hamilton and that evening the girls were called in solemn conclave to see the box opened.

First, Mr. Hamilton took out four photographs which were pa.s.sed from one to another. One pictured a gray-haired man in military clothes, very erect, very stern and fine-looking. Another was of a plump, placid, elderly lady who looked the very picture of motherliness.

"I know that's the baby's grandmother and grandfather," said Dorothy positively, and no one had any other opinion to offer.

Mr. Hamilton uttered an exclamation of surprise as he took the third picture from the paper which enfolded it. "That's the poor little mother," he said softly, and the girls crowded around eagerly to gaze at the pretty, girlish creature looking out at them with hopeful eyes which foreshadowed no hint of her sad fate.

The girls were very sober, and no one broke the silence as Mr.

Harnilton unwrapped the remaining picture. It was a young man with a thim, delicate face and large eyes rather sad in their expression.

On the back was written in German, "Karl von Winterbach, to his beloved wife."

"He looks like the picture of some German poet," murmured Charlotte thoughtfully.

"The poor little soul had evidently dropped part of her name," said Mr. Hamilton, "for the people in the settlement knew her only as Mrs. Winter."

There was not much else in the box; a few ornaments, a little faded needlebook which looked as though it had been kept for memory's sake, and two letters. One of the letters was unsealed, and Mr.

Hamilton took out a slip of paper which said with pathetic brevity, "If I am dead please send this letter to my dear father. He will care for my baby. Emilie von Winterbach."

The girls scrutinized the address on the other letter with the most excited interest.

To the Herr Baron von Grunwald, 10 Sommerstra.s.se, Dresden, Germany, read Ruth slowly over Mr. Hamilton's shoulder. "Why, girls, he's a baron; Elsa's grandfather is a baron."

"I knew she looked aristocratic," remarked Betty in a satisfied tone. "I shall go the first thing in the morning to offer her my humble services."

"Well, young ladies, it looks very much as if the Social Six would be deprived of their youngest member," said Mr. Hamilton as he put pictures and letters back into the box. "I shall send that letter to-morrow morning, and another with it telling all we know about little Elsa's mother, and I am sure we shall hear something as soon as possible from the Herr Baron von Grunwald."

The prospect of losing the club baby made her all the more precious in the eyes of her six adopted mothers, and during the weeks while they waited for news from across the ocean, they were lavish in care and affection. They planned to make an elaborate traveling wardrobe for her, and worked courageously at it every minute they could spare. Even Charlotte and Dorothy took a hand. Time was lacking, however, and their ideas of what their baby really needed grew less expansive as the days went on. The Candle Club boys felt that they were offering a neat and appropriate tribute when they presented the small lady with six pairs of shoes, two black, two white, and a pair each of red and blue.

"Those are good enough for a baron's granddaughter, don't you think?"

asked Jack, who had been deputed to present them at a meeting of the Social Six. "I think they're rather neat, myself," he added with modest pride, as he stood off and gazed admiringly at them.

"They are lovely," said Ruth warmly. "Have some fudge. And here, take some back to the boys to show that we appreciate their kindness."

"I just know they waited to give them. until they felt sure we were making fudge," grumbled Dolly as Jack departed. "I know their tricks."

"I don't care," laughed Ruth. "We've had plenty anyway, and it was nice of them to spend their money on shoes."

The girls were in Ruth's room, and the rest of the house was very still, for Mrs. Hamilton had gone to Boston and Arthur was out with the boys. Tongues were flying fast, and no one heard the bell ring. Presently Katie appeared in the doorway with the card-tray saying:

"Miss Ruth, there is a gentleman down-stairs who wants to see Mrs.

Hamilton, and I can't make him understand where she is."

Ruth looked at the card curiously and then fell back on the sofa with a startled face.

"Girls, it's the Baron von Grunwald," she gasped, "and he's come without any warning. Oh, why did Aunt Mary go into town to-day!"