Her own toilet had to be brief for the baby might wake at any minute. She laid her hat and coat and purse on a chair and set her door a little ajar so that Rand could signal to her without calling the attention of the first floor to the fact.
She had no fear that the other girls on the hall would disturb her for they had come in very late, and by the few words of their maudlin conversation she had overheard she judged it would be later in the morning before they came on the scene. She hoped she and the baby could get off before that.
She sat waiting, glancing out the window at the lovely scene. The storm was over and the sun had arisen. The world looked like a fairyland. The city's grime and dirt were covered with fleecy white, and the rose of the sky was reflected in its whiteness. The lovely poem about a city lying like a world newborn came and hovered on the edge of her memory again, but she was too anxious to try to think out the words. The baby was breathing hoarsely, and crying out now and then like a wee protest. She was sure he was going to be sick. And the fire was blinking low. She turned down the wick to preserve the oil as long as possible, and began to feel cold herself. What ought she to do? It wouldn't do to let the baby get cold. He had given one or two hoarse little coughs already. Should she go to the front hall and call up the stairs for Mr. Rand? Of course, that would bring more scorn down upon her head, but she couldn't stop for that if there was more danger for the baby.
She bowed her head and asked for quick guidance, and then she heard the front door open and close, and feet in the lower hall stamping off the snow. Then quiet footsteps stole up the stairs and she saw Rand coming toward her door. Ah! He must have got up early and gone out! Perhaps he had gone to the police. But would they care for a sick baby clothed mostly in blankets? Her heart sank.
She was standing by her door with her eyes wide when he came up to her, and the baby chose that second to cry out and give a wild little hoarse, croupy cough.
She saw that Rand was on the alert at once.
"Is he sick?" he asked in a low whisper.
"I'm afraid so," said Dale. "His head is hot, and he keeps giving those sharp, tight little coughs."
Rand looked troubled.
"Well, we're getting out of here! I've been to the police station, and I'm taking the baby at once. Can you fix him up so he won't get much cold air?"
Dale's heart sank.
"I'll do my best," she said sadly, "but I'm afraid for him. Are you going to hand him over to the police?"
"Supposedly." George Rand grinned briefly. "But don't you worry. Now, I'm taking the baby, understand, not you! You will stay here and finish packing up things, and be ready when your taxi comes in fifteen minutes. Is that too soon?"
"Oh, no," said Dale struggling for self-control. "I'm all ready now."
"That's good. Now! What's this? The hot-water bag? Well, all right. Yes, I'll hold it carefully. I won't let it get away from him. And I'll watch out for that veil thing you have over his face. No, I won't let him smother, and I won't let the cold air get to him. By the way, is this the old woman's blanket you have around him? I ought to pay her for it."
"No, thank goodness," said Dale. "It's an old one of my own."
"Okay. That's fine. Now is he ready?"
"Yes! Oh!" said Dale, and the tears welled to her eyes.
George Rand turned, holding the baby cautiously, and looked deep into her eyes.
"Can't you trust me?" he asked in a very low voice. "Here! Don't read this till you get in the taxi." And he slid a letter into her hand and hurried away down the stairs.
Dale stood at the head of the stairs and looked after him. The baby was gone, and she didn't know whether she would ever see it again! Perhaps the police would not understand and would let it die! Well, probably Mrs. Beck would think that was a good thing for everybody concerned, but somehow it broke her heart to think of it.
Then the feel of the letter in her hand recalled her to the present, and she backed into her room and concealed the letter in her handbag. Mrs. Beck was liable to appear at any minute, and she did not wish to be questioned about that letter.
There had been a furtive opening of the door of the downstairs front room into the hall as Rand went out noisily, and Dale had no doubt but that two women were curiously looking out their front window. Mrs. Beck would be sure to come up very soon now, and she felt she would like to forestall her. So she turned out the little blinking stove that was giving final gasps of light in a hectic way. She went carefully through the four drawers of the pine chest to make sure she had left nothing, and she turned the bedclothes back and left them nearly airing. Then she hurried downstairs, and none too soon for Mrs. Beck was just opening her door to come out and presumably go up.
"I brought you my key, Mrs. Beck," said Dale in a cold young voice. "I turned out the stove and left the bed to air. I guess that's about all. There goes the doorbell. I think that's my taxi. I'll just go up and show him the way."
"No, you won't, either. I'll go myself," said Mrs. Beck disagreeably. "I never let strangers go out of the house without inspecting my room before they leave!"
"Oh, of course, Mrs. Beck. That's quite all right!"
"Well, it had better be all right!" said Mrs. Beck irately, tramping up the stairs, leaving Dale to open the door and escort her taxi driver up after her trunk.
She had her bags piled together on the trunk in the middle of the floor, and the man gathered them up and said he would come back for the trunk. While he was gone Mrs. Beck nosed around and counted the sheets and pillowcase and towels, and looked scornfully at the small portion of scented soap that Dale had left in the soap dish, and finally said, with a withering glance about, "Where's the baby?"
"Mr. Rand took it away," said Dale quietly.
"Did he take it to the police?" The voice was very sharp. "Because if he didn't I'm going to call them up myself."
"I really don't know, Mrs. Beck," said Dale haughtily. "He told me he had been to police headquarters, and I suppose that is where he was taking the baby."
"Oh! You don't know! You say you don't know!"
The taxi man returned and gathered up the trunk, and Dale with a lifting of her head proudly walked down the stairs after him and made no reply.
But Mrs. Beck followed after.
"You'd better leave me your address," she called after her in a raucous voice. "There might be some mail."
Dale turned and answered: "There will be no mail, I am sure, but if there should be, you tell the postman to put it in General Delivery." And Dale went down the steps and got into the taxi.
As soon as they had turned the corner out of sight of the house Dale opened her letter.
It was not long. Only a single sheet, written in hast.
Dear Partner: Your driver will take you to 728 Carroll Building, South Seventeenth Street. I'll meet you at the desk. Don't worry. For your protection I am doing it this way.
That was all, and it was unsigned. Her heart beat rather wildly as she folded the paper and put it back in her bag. Sudden tears sprang to her eyes. For her "protection," the note said. That must mean so that it would be impossible for her to tell Mrs. Beck anything. Well, she hadn't told anything to Mrs. Beck, and now presently this anxiety would be over. Seventeenth Street wasn't so very far away. But oh, if he had only told her what he had done with the baby!
Chapter 9
As the taxi rolled along through the streets that were so clogged with snow that traffic was very much impeded, Dale sat there trying to be calm, and praying in her heart:
Oh God, help me to trust You in this. Help me to be willing to have this as You want it. I don't know why I care so awfully about it, but it does seem as if that poor little baby had taken right hold of my heartstrings. Of course, I know I couldn't have him, but, Lord, do give him to somebody who will care, and love him, and help him to get well and strong. Lord, please take care of him, and help me to trust it all with You.
The apartment house before which the taxi stopped was unprete
ntious but pleasant-looking, and there was a tiny park across from it. At another time Dale would have enjoyed looking about and wishing such a place could be her destination. But now her mind was full of what had become of the baby and what she was going to do next.
"You want yoh baggage carried upta seventh flo'?" questioned the driver. "The gentlemen said 728."
Dale caught her breath and tried to answer as if she knew all about it. Where in the world was she going, anyway? Should she go blindly any farther? But of course she could trust Mr. Rand. His eyes had been so honest as he looked into hers just as he was leaving and had said, "Can't you trust me?" Of course, she had to trust him.
True, she had not known him long, but even Mrs. Beck's words about him were a recommendation, although her standards were low. But if there had been anything wrong about him she surely would have made it known.
Then again she lifted her heart: Dear Father, don't let me go wrong. Guide me!
She got out of the cab and went into the building, and there stepping out of the elevator and coming toward her was Rand, smiling and quiet.
"So glad you came through all right," he said. "Is the man bringing your things in? Yes, porter," to the doorman, "those are the bags. Take them right up."
Rand did not talk on the way as they shot up to the seventh floor, and Dale tried to keep the question out of her eyes, but he knew she was imploring him to tell her where the baby was.
"He's all right," he assured her gravely with a comforting smile.
And then the elevator door opened and they were walking down the hall, with her trunk and bags miraculously appearing from the opposite end of the hall.
Rand opened a door and let Dale into what seemed like a heaven below in contrast to her little back hall bedroom.
And there was the baby still in his chrysalis of blanket, veil and all, lying in a cunning willow crib and yelling his little head off in a fair frenzy, getting all tangled up in the fine knit white shoulder shawl that Dale had put over his face to protect him from the cold.
Dale flung off her hat and coat and flew to his assistance. The stolid chambermaid, who had been put on duty while Rand went down to meet Dale, looked at her curiously, but Rand dismissed her and closed the door.
"A doctor, a child specialist, will be here in half an hour, and he is bringing a nurse with him," Rand said. "I thought perhaps you would like to put some warm suitable garments on the baby before they get here. I had a lot of things sent up for you to pick out what you thought would be best."
He pointed to a big white box lying on a table. He lifted the cover and Dale recognized a dainty little layette.
"Oh, that's nice!" she said in relief. "I was going to try to make him some, only there wasn't time last night."
"Well, I didn't know just what to get, of course, so I told the woman he was about so long, and she sent up what she thought would do." He measured solemnly the approximate length of the little foundling, and Dale smiled in her heart over the scene of this purchase. It would be something she could laugh about later perhaps, but just now there was too much to be done.
The baby was crying fiercely, mouthing at the blanket and struggling with entanglements, and every time he drew in his breath there was a tight, hoarse cough. Whooooooo-ough! Whooooooo-ough! It was nerve racking. It seemed as if the little throat and lungs were being torn apart with each spasm.
Dale untangled the big soft cobweb of veil and flung it aside, and Rand stood gravely by and gathered it up, folding it awkwardly and laying it on a chair.
"If these things aren't right the shop is just around the corner and I can go and get whatever you want," Rand said meekly.
Dale turned an abstracted smile upon him.
"How nice!" she said and worked deftly on.
The room was heavenly warm, and that was good. Dale got off the wrappings as fast as she could and with one hand reached for some garments, putting them on hurriedly, taking the struggling mite unawares as it were. Perhaps she would have been more awkward herself, doing this unaccustomed work with Rand gravely watching her, if she had not realized that at any minute now a strange doctor and a critical trained nurse might enter and see her little charge in lowly attire. She must get him into some shape where he could be handled decently, and kept warm.
"Poor baby! Poor little fellow!" she crooned as Rand handed her out the garments.
There was a little wool shirt with long sleeves, and the tiny form was almost lost in its generous folds. There was a little wool slip or petticoat of finest weave. Even in her haste Dale recognized how fine and dainty the garments were, and she rejoiced that Rand had done this. Little fine wool stockings that came above the spindling skinny knees in a comforting way, and a little flannel dressing gown of palest blue all scalloped round about with hand-embroidered buttonholing. Oh, he could have gotten plainer, cheaper things at that little shop around the corner, Dale was sure, but he had picked out fine sweet attire for the little stray waif, and Dale was glad!
"Are they all right?" he asked meekly. "Will they do?"
"They are wonderful!" said Dale. "Lovely as any baby could desire. It was wonderful of you to get them! And now I wonder if we ought not to give him a little hot water? I'm a bit afraid to try milk till the doctor gets here. And he is so hoarse! Oh, I wish he would come!"
Dale sat down beside the crib and fed the baby drops of hot water, and the little fellow looked up pitifully at her, protesting, but swallowed the water, though he spilled a great part of it on the towel that was under his chin.
Rand had opened another package, and there were a pair of lovely white blankets with blue satin ribbon bindings. He spread one out over the child's feet.
"He doesn't look so bad now, does he?" said George, looking proudly down on his protégé. "Looks like a regular guy, doesn't he?"
Dale looked up and smiled, and then amazingly found she was weeping!
The telephone announced that the doctor and nurse had arrived and were coming up, and Dale gave the last touches to the child's outfit, brushed the tears away from her eyes, and bent her energies upon soothing the baby.
Rand had already, it appeared, given a brief outline of the baby's history to date, so far as he knew it, and after he had introduced Dale as the young woman who had helped get the child warmed and fed, he proceeded to describe it again, most briefly.
"Yes. Well, old man, you've been through a lot in a short time, haven't you?" said Dr. Mackenzie, putting on some earphones and stooping to listen to the baby's lungs and heart.
The room was very still while the doctor looked the baby over carefully, asked a few keen questions, some of which Rand and Dale could answer and some they could not.
The nurse stood by the radiator warming her hands. She had stepped into one of the side rooms, and returned in full array of uniform. Now she was capable and ready for the next act when the doctor should give the word.
At last the doctor straightened up and looked at them.
"Well, I guess we've got a good rousing case of pneumonia. I don't see how we're going to get by without it."
Then he called for glasses and a spoon, and gave quick directions to the nurse.
Dale listened to every word carefully and took mental note for her own use when she should be taking care of the baby--if she did. For as yet they had not talked over any plans, and Dale had not been able to think connectedly about what she herself was going to do. Her whole mind was taken up by this little sick child. It was foolish of course, but she couldn't possibly continue to care for him while she was working for her living, and she must have a job as soon as possible. There was no other way. She could not think of taking a loan from Mr. Rand. That was out of the question. Even a few dollars would be a load upon her mind until she got it repaid.
She still had her hundred dollars, of course, for she had put it in the bank at once before she left the lawyer's office, and she had been able to add just a little to it now and then, but not much. Experience had taught her tha
t it would not take long for even a hundred dollars to melt away under daily use. Especially in a lovely apartment like this one. She could not afford to stay. Not after the stress of the illness was over.
Of course, she would not desert the baby while she was needed here, at least till after the crisis. She knew what pneumonia was, and her heart sank as she saw the look on the doctor's face. It was serious all right, and perhaps the poor little flower of a life would not last but a few hours. It would not be strange if that was the case, a poor little bit of humanity out in the bitter cold, unclad!
She looked around on the pleasant room, large, with two long windows looking toward that snow-clad park; a soft velvet carpet on the floor, good furniture; a luxurious couch, several easy chairs, a combined desk and bookcase, though there were no books in it. There were two bedrooms connecting, and a bath, and later she discovered there was a small kitchenette, though scarcely more than a boxed-in stove and cabinet and sink. It was quite possible to get simple meals there.
She discovered that Rand had taken a room on a lower floor of the same house, and there was a telephone in each room so he could be called at any time in the night if he should be needed.
Rand had gone out with the doctor, but when he came back and she had a chance to talk with him, she remonstrated him.
"You shouldn't have got such a fine apartment," she said. "This must be awfully expensive. You couldn't afford it."
He smiled gravely, almost sadly.
"Yes, I could afford it," he said. "You know, I had been saving up to get such an apartment for my mother. But now she is gone I have no more need to go on starvation rations. I think she would like me to do this. The little chap needed it, and we couldn't really hope to save his life at Mrs. Beck's. Besides, we hadn't time to shop around. I had to be spry to get all done I had to do this morning. Then there was the doctor and the nurse to be considered, to say nothing of my partner."