"There must be times when he sits alone brooding over his boy and how different things might have been had he married a different type of woman," remarked Eleanor, one evening, after leaving their new cla.s.s-room.

"Yes; but it seems to me he should have been able to see through such a shallow thing as that woman must have been, when he returned from college and found her apparently waiting for him," Polly replied.

"But he's so tender-hearted, you see, he couldn't bear to give her any pain or trouble. That must have been the only reason why he allowed her to get him."

"I suppose so. Why, even now, he is an easy prey to the scheming people who know he has barrels of money, and who simply pretend to be friendly for what they can get out of him."

"It's too bad he can't be satisfied with just Mr. Ashby and Mr. Fabian for man friends, and we few women for his women friends," mused Eleanor.

"We'd love him for himself."

Polly smiled. "Wouldn't you and I give him a gay time-with high-school keeping us employed every week-day, and art cla.s.s every other night in the week, to say nothing of lectures, exhibitions, and other things that Mr. Fabian has us do, in line with our work."

The two girls had crossed Madison and Fourth avenues by this time, and were slowly walking down the street towards the Studio. It was a beautiful Fall night, and the moon was almost full, hence they were in no hurry to reach home and go indoors.

"I hear Anne singing-she must have company," said Polly as they neared the house.

[Ill.u.s.tration: HE WAS A CHUBBY LITTLE FELLOW.]

"Yes; the windows are open in the living-room, and I can peep under the shades and see Anne at the piano," whispered Eleanor.

Just then the breeze wafted one of the shades back from the window, and the girls recognised Mrs. Evans and Mrs. Latimer as the guests of Anne.

"Let's hurry in!" exclaimed Eleanor, suddenly turning from the front window and darting into the vestibule.

The outside door was open wide, and as Eleanor ran up the one step that raised the tiled entrance from the sidewalk, she stumbled over a soft bundle that seemed pushed against the wall.

By this time, Polly also reached the vestibule, but the inside door being closed and locked for protection, it was too dark in the vestibule for either of the girls to see what the huge bundle contained.

"It feels like a bundle of old clothes. Maybe some servant hid it here for a time-she may be going to come back for it," observed Eleanor, prodding the bundle with her foot.

But to the surprise of both girls, a little squeal issued from the roll.

In the semi-darkness, they stood spell-bound and gazed at each other.

"It's a baby-of all things!" cried Polly, hastily trying the handle of the door.

"Ring-ring the bell like mad. I'll pick it up!" Eleanor exclaimed, excitably.

"Open the door-Anne-hurry up! We've found a baby!" called Polly, leaning over the iron rail that projected over the area door, in front of the windows.

Both girls forgot that they had latch keys, but Mrs. Evans sat nearest the window where Polly stood, and quickly answered her call. Eleanor, meanwhile, had carefully picked up the rolled-up baby and, the moment the door was flung open, carried it indoors.

"Where did you find it?" exclaimed four amazed women.

"Right at our door-in the vestibule," said Eleanor, placing her bundle on the divan and proceeding to open it.

"Wasn't anyone in sight?" asked Mrs. Latimer, cautiously.

"Not that we noticed; but, of course, we never thought to look, when we found what was in the bundle," explained Polly, nervously eager to a.s.sist Eleanor in what she was doing.

Before the swaddling blankets were released from the baby, it began to utter baby-talk. The females, grouped closely in front of the divan, smiled appreciatively.

Finally the last wrapper, which was of mosquito netting, came off, and there lay a chubby little fellow of about fifteen months. He had a fist in his mouth, and with the other dimpled hand he clutched at Polly's hair as she leaned over him.

"Oh! Isn't he a darling! He must belong to a neighbor!" exclaimed Mrs.

Stewart.

"He certainly is not starved or poorly cared for," added Mrs. Evans, with experienced voice.

"But he only has on his nightie! Not another st.i.tch to be found," said Anne, carefully rolling the baby over to see if he had any clothes under him.

"There's a note-pinned on the blanket!" cried Polly, anxiously removing the pin and taking the paper over to the light.

"It says-just one word-'Billy.' Did you ever!" exclaimed Polly, glancing from one to the other of the friends who were waiting expectantly to hear about the boy.

"Let's see!" demanded Eleanor, frowning at such a short explanation.

Polly handed the slip of paper to her friend and joined Anne at the divan where she was divesting the boy of his nightie to see if further clues might be found. About his fat neck was a very fine gold chain, and suspended from that was a tiny flat heart-shaped locket. It did not open, but on the plain gold face was a monogram of three letters: B- D- W-.

"Now we've got something to work on! 'B' stands for Billy, of course, but what can 'D' and 'W' mean?" Eleanor said excitedly.

"No child is christened 'Billy,'" Anne contradicted. "He would be 'William'-and that is what the 'W' is for. Children are nicknamed 'Billy' or 'w.i.l.l.y' later. Now his middle and last name must begin with the 'B' and 'D'-or vice versa."

"Shake out the blankets carefully-perhaps another paper is pinned to one of them," said Polly, eagerly.

But there was no other message in the blankets.

"Let's take off his flannel shirt! There may be something there,"

ventured Mrs. Stewart.

In less than a minute, the pins were out and the woven shirt of Merino was removed, but no further information rewarded the anxious seekers. So the shirt was carefully replaced and the boy's nightie slipped over his head again.

"It's all hand-made of fine linen," remarked Mrs. Latimer, as she felt of the hem at the bottom.

"And one can see that he is no slum child," added Mrs. Evans.

"_Who_ can he be? and why should anyone want to leave him?" were the perplexing questions Polly asked of the others.

They all shook their heads and wondered. But the boy had no use for such condolences; he crawled over the divan and when he found not what he was in search of, he screwed up his dimpled face and began a l.u.s.ty call.

Anne instantly took him up and began to chirp to him. He smiled a cheerful thanks and showed eight little front teeth. That brought all his new friends to his feet-metaphorically speaking.

"_Isn't_ he a dear!" declared Mrs. Stewart to no one in particular.

"Yes, but we have to advertise him at once. It may be that a villain kidnapped him and ran away with him just to get a reward. He may have been seen, or chased by the police, and then dropped the baby in our vestibule," said Mrs. Latimer.

Anne laughed. "Which a.n.a.lysis shows that one of us married a lawyer-Mrs. Latimer gives us good advice."

"Or he may belong to a young mother who cannot longer earn a living for him," added Mrs. Stewart.