"Exactly. I didn't want to trouble you, for you have your house fullalready; and I really couldn't lay my hand on any good soul who wouldbe bothered with this little forlornity. She has nothing to recommendher, you see,--not pretty, feeble, and shy as a mouse; no end of care,I dare say: yet she needs every bit she can get to keep soul and bodytogether, if I'm any judge."
Rose opened her lips impulsively, but closed them without speaking,and sat a minute looking straight between Rosa's ears, as if forcingherself to think twice before she spoke. Mac watched her out of thecorner of his eye, as he said, in a musing tone, tucking the shawlround a pair of shabby little feet the while,--
"This seems to be one of the charities that no one wants to undertake;yet I can't help feeling that my promise to the mother binds me tosomething more than merely handing baby over to some busy matron orcareless nurse in any of our over-crowded institutions. She is such afrail creature she won't trouble any one long, perhaps; and I _should_like to give her just a taste of comfort, if not love, before shefinds her 'Marmar' again."
"Lead Rosa: I'm going to take this child home; and, if uncle iswilling, I'll adopt her, and she _shall_ be happy!" cried Rose, withthe sudden glow of feeling that always made her lovely. And,gathering poor baby close, she went on her way like a modernBritomart, ready to redress the wrongs of any who had need of her.
As he led the slowly stepping horse along the quiet road, Mac couldnot help thinking that they looked a little like the Flight intoEgypt: but he did not say so, being a reverent youth,--only glancedback now and then at the figure above him; for Rose had taken off herhat to keep the light from baby's eyes, and sat with the sunshineturning her uncovered hair to gold, as she looked down at the littlecreature resting on the saddle before her, with the sweetthoughtfulness one sees in some of Correggio's young Madonnas.
No one else saw the picture, but Mac long remembered it; and everafter there was a touch of reverence added to the warm affection hehad always borne his cousin Rose.
"What is the child's name?" was the sudden question which disturbed abrief silence, broken only by the sound of pacing hoofs, the rustle ofgreen boughs overhead, and the blithe carolling of birds.
"I'm sure I don't know," answered Mac, suddenly aware that he hadfallen out of one quandary into another.
"Didn't you ask?"
"No: the mother called her 'Baby;' the old woman, 'Brat.' And that isall I know of the first name: the last is Kennedy. You can Christenher what you like."
"Then I shall name her Dulcinea, as you are her knight, and call herDulce for short. That is a sweet diminutive, I'm sure," laughed Rose,much amused at the idea.
Don Quixote looked pleased, and vowed to defend his little ladystoutly, beginning his services on the spot by filling the small handswith buttercups, thereby winning for himself the first smile baby'sface had known for weeks.
When they got home, Aunt Plenty received her new guest with heraccustomed hospitality, and, on learning the story, was as warmlyinterested as even enthusiastic Rose could desire, bustling about tomake the child comfortable with an energy pleasant to see; for thegrandmotherly instincts were strong in the old lady, and of late hadbeen beautifully developed.
In less than half an hour from the time baby went upstairs, she camedown again on Rose's arm, freshly washed and brushed, in a pink gownmuch too large, and a white apron decidedly too small; an immaculatepair of socks, but no shoes; a neat bandage on the bruised arm, and astring of spools for a plaything hanging on the other. A resignedexpression sat upon her little face; but the frightened eyes were onlyshy now, and the forlorn heart evidently much comforted.
"There! how do you like your Dulce now?" said Rose, proudly displayingthe work of her hands, as she came in with her habit pinned up, andcarrying a silver porringer of bread and milk.
Mac knelt down, took the small, reluctant hand, and kissed it asdevoutly as ever good Alonzo Quixada did that of the Duchess; while hesaid, merrily quoting from the immortal story,--
"'High and Sovereign Lady, thine till death, the Knight of the RuefulCountenance.'"
But baby had no heart for play, and, withdrawing her hand, pointed tothe porringer, with the suggestive remark,--
/>
"Din-din, _now_."
So Rose sat down and fed the Duchess, while the Don stood by andwatched the feast with much satisfaction.
"How nice she looks! Do you consider shoes unhealthy?" he asked,surveying the socks with respectful interest.
"No: her shoes are drying. You must have let her go in the mud."
"I only put her down for a minute when she howled; and she made for apuddle, like a duck. I'll buy her some new ones,--clothes too. Wheredo I go, what do I ask for, and how much do I get?" he said, divingfor his pocket-book, amiably anxious, but pitiably ignorant.
"I'll see to that. We always have things on hand for the Pointers asthey come along, and can soon fit Dulce out. You may make someinquiries about the father if you will; for I don't want to have hertaken away just as I get fond of her. Do you know any thing abouthim?"
"Only that he is in State Prison for twenty-one years, and not likelyto trouble you."
"How dreadful! I really think Phebe was better off to have none atall. I'll go to work at once, then, and try to bring up the convict'slittle daughter to be a good woman; so that she will have an honestname of her own, since he has nothing but disgrace to give her."
"Uncle can show you how to do that, if you need any help. He has beenso successful in his first attempt I fancy you won't require much,"said Mac, picking up the spools for the sixth time.
"Yes, I shall; for it is a great responsibility, and I do notundertake it lightly," answered Rose, soberly; though thedouble-barrelled compliment pleased her very much.
"I'm sure Phebe has turned out splendidly, and you began very earlywith her."
"So I did! that's encouraging. Dear thing, how bewildered she lookedwhen I proposed adopting her. I remember all about it; for uncle hadjust come, and I was quite crazy over a box of presents, and rushed atPhebe as she was cleaning brasses. How little I thought my childishoffer would end so well!" and Rose fell a musing with a happy smile onher face, while baby picked the last morsels out of the porringer withher own busy fingers.
It certainly had ended well; for Phebe at the end of six months notonly had a good place as choir-singer, but several young pupils, andexcellent prospects for the next winter.
"'Accept the blessing of a poor young man, Whose lucky steps have led him to your door,'
and let me help as much as I can. Good-by, my Dulcinea," and, with afarewell stroke of the smooth head, Mac went away to report hissuccess to his mother, who, in spite of her seeming harshness, wasalready planning how she could best befriend this inconvenient baby.