Part 10 (1/2)
”Why, the working women, of course.”
”They can't subscribe 'em if they haven't got 'em. There are mighty few kids in this town; and if you really want my candid opinion, I don't think Durford needs a day-nursery any more than it needs an icebox for cherubim. But then of course that doesn't matter much. When you goin' to begin?”
”Next Monday. We have rented the store where Elkin's grocery used to be, and we are going to fit it up with cribs, and all the most up-to-date conveniences for a sanitary day-nursery.”
”Hm! Well, I'll do all I can to help you, of course. I suppose you'll find babies pus.h.i.+n' all over the sidewalk Monday mornin', comin' early to avoid the rush. Better get down as early as possible, Virginia.”
Virginia departed.
After the furnis.h.i.+ng of the incipient nursery had been completed, and each little crib had a new unbreakable doll whose cheeks were decorated with unsuckable paint, Virginia and Mary Quinn--invaluable in undertaking the spadework of all Virginia's parish exploits--gave an afternoon tea to which all the subscribers and their friends were invited. But when everything was in readiness for patronage, what few working women there were in Durford, possessed of the right kind of babies, seemed strangely reluctant to trust their youthful offspring to the tender mercies of Virginia Bascom and Mary Quinn.
Consequently, the philanthropic movement, started under such favorable patronage, soon reached a critical stage in its career, and Mrs. Burke was called in to contribute some practical suggestions. She responded to the summons with all due promptness, and when she arrived at the nursery, she smilingly remarked:
”Hm! But where are the babies? I thought they would be swarming all over the place like tadpoles in a pool.”
”Well, you see,” Virginia began, her voice quivering with disappointment, ”Mary Quinn and I have been sitting here four mortal days, and not a single infant has appeared on the scene. I must say that the working women of Durford seem strangely unappreciative of our efforts to help them.”
”Well,” Mrs. Burke responded, ”I suppose day-nurseries without babies are as incomplete as an incubator without eggs. But after all, it hardly seems worth while to go out and s.n.a.t.c.h nursing infants from their mother's b.r.e.a.s.t.s just to fill a long-felt want, does it?
Besides, you might get yourself into trouble.”
”I didn't ask you to come and make fun of me,” Virginia replied touchily. ”I wanted you to make some suggestions to help us out. If we don't get any babies, we might just as well close our doors at once. I should be awfully mortified to have the whole thing a failure, after all we have done, and all the advertising we have had.”
Mrs. Burke sat down and a.s.sumed a very judicial expression.
”Well, Ginty dear, I'm awful sorry for you; I don't doubt you done the best you could. It'd be unreasonable to expect you to collect babies like mushrooms in a single night. All true reformers are bound to strike snags, and to suffer because they aint appreciated in their own day and generation. It's only after we are gone and others take our places that the things we do are appreciated. You'll have to resign yourself to fate, Virginia, and wait for what the newspapers call 'the vindicatin' verdict of prosperity.' Think of all the people that tried to do things and didn't do 'em. Now there's the Christian martyrs----”
For some reason Virginia seemed to have a vague suspicion that Hepsey was still making fun of her; and being considerably nettled, she interjected tartly:
”I'm not working for the verdict of posterity, and I don't care a flip for the Christian martyrs. I'm trying to conduct a day-nursery, here and now; we have the beds, and the equipment, and some money, and----”
”But you haven't got the babies, Virginia!”
”Precisely, Mrs. Burke. It's simply a question of babies, now or never. Babies we must have or close our doors. I must confess that I am greatly pained at the lack of interest of the community in our humble efforts to serve them.”
For some time Hepsey sat in silence; then she smiled as if a bright idea occurred to her.
”Why not borrow a few babies from the mothers in town, Virginia? You see, you might offer to pay a small rental by the hour, or take out a lease which could be renewed when it expired. What is lacking is public confidence in your enterprise. If you and Miss Quinn could be seen in the nursery windows dandlin' a baby on each arm, and singin'
lullabies to 'em for a few days, it'd attract attention, inspire faith in the timid, and public confidence would be restored. The tide of babies'd turn your way after a while, and the nursery would prove a howlin' success.”
Virginia considered the suggestion and, after deep thought, remarked:
”What do you think we ought to pay for the loan of a baby per hour, Mrs. Burke?”
”Well, of course I haven't had much experience rentin' babies, as I have been busy payin' taxes and insurance on my own for some years; then you see rents have gone up like everything lately. But I should think that ten cents an afternoon ought to be sufficient. I think I might be able to hunt up a baby or two. Mrs. Warren might lend her baby, and perhaps Mrs. Fletcher might add her twins. I'll call on them at once, if you say so.”
Virginia looked relieved, and in a voice of grat.i.tude responded:
”You are really very, very kind.”