CHAPTER I
Borrowed Babies
THE oldest inhabitant said that Lakeville was experiencing an unusualfall. He would probably have said the same thing if the high-perchedtown had accidentally tumbled off the bluff into the blue lake; but inthis instance, he referred merely to the weather, which was certainlyunusually mild for autumn.
It was not, however, the oldest, but four of the youngest citizens thatrejoiced most in this unusual prolonging of summer; for the continuedwarm weather made it possible for those devoted friends, Jean Mapes,Marjory Vale, Mabel Bennett and little Bettie Tucker, to spend manya delightful hour in their precious Dandelion Cottage, the real,tumble-down house that was now, after so many narrow escapes, safelytheir very own. Some day, to be sure, it would be torn down to makeroom for a habitable dwelling, but that unhappy day was still tooremote to cause any uneasiness.
Of course, when very cold weather should come, it would be necessaryto close the beloved Cottage, for there was no heating plant, therewere many large cracks over and under the doors and around the windows;and by lying very flat on the dining-room floor and peering underthe baseboards, one could easily see what was happening in the nextyard. These, and other defects, would surely make the little houseuninhabitable in winter; but while the unexpectedly extended summerlasted, the Cottagers were rejoicing over every pleasant moment ofweather and praying hard for other pleasant moments.
Of all the games played in Dandelion Cottage, the one called "Mother"was the most popular. To play it, it was necessary, first of all, todivide the house into four equal parts. As there were five rooms, thisdivision might seem to offer no light task; but, by first subtractingthe kitchen, it was possible to solve this difficult mathematicalproblem to the Cottagers' entire satisfaction.
But of course one can't play "Mother" without possessing a family.The Cottagers solved this problem also. Bettie's home could always becounted on to furnish at least two decidedly genuine babies and Jeancould always borrow a perfectly delightful little cousin named AnneHalliday; but Marjory and Mabel, to their sorrow, were absolutelydestitute of infantile relatives. Mabel was the chief sufferer. SedateMarjory, plausible of tongue, convincing in manner, could easilyaccumulate a most attractive family at very short notice by the simpleexpedient of borrowing babies from the next block; but nowhere withinreasonable reach was there a mother willing to intrust her preciousoffspring a second time to heedless Mabel.
"Now, Mabel," Mrs. Mercer would say, when Mabel pleaded to have youngPercival for her very own for just one brief hour, "I'd really like tooblige you, but it's getting late in the season, you are not carefulenough about doors and windows and the last time you borrowed Percivalyou brought him home with a stiff neck that lasted three days."
"But I did remember to return him," pleaded Mabel.
"Do you sometimes forget?" queried Mrs. Mercer, with interest.
"I did twice," confessed always honest Mabel; "but truly I don't seehow _I_ can help it when babies sleep and sleep and sleep the way thosetwo did. You see, I made a bed for Gerald Price on the lowest-downcloset shelf, and he was so perfectly comfortable that he thought hewas asleep for all night."
"What about the other time?"
"That was Mollie Dixon. But then, I had five children that day and onlyone bed. Mollie slipped down in the crack at the back--she's awfullythin--and I never missed her until her mother came after her. That wasrather a bad time [Mabel sighed at the recollection] for Mrs. Dixonfound the Cottage locked up for the night and poor little Mollie cryingunder the bed."
"Mabel! And you want to borrow my precious Percival!"
"But it couldn't happen _again_," protested Mabel, earnestly. "Bettiesays that I'm just like lightning; I never strike twice in the sameplace. That's the reason I get into so many different kinds of scrapes.I'll be ever so careful, though, if you'll let me borrow Percival justthis one time."
Mrs. Mercer, however, refused to part with Percival. Other mothers,approached by pleading Mabel, refused likewise to intrust their babiesto her enthusiastic but heedless keeping. They knew her too well.
"The thing for you to do," suggested Marjory, ostentatiously washingthe perfectly clean faces of the four delightful small persons that shehad been able, without any trouble at all, to borrow in Blaker Street,"is to find a mother that really _wants_ to get rid of her children."
"Yes," said Bob Tucker, who had dropped in to deliver the basket ofapples that Mrs. Crane had sent to her former neighbors, "you ought toadvertise for the kind of mother that feeds her babies to crocodiles.Perhaps some of them have emigrated to this country and sort of missthe Ganges River."
"You might try the orphan asylum," offered Jean, as balm for thiswound. "It's only four blocks from here."
"I have," returned Mabel, dejectedly. "I went there early this morning."
"What happened?" demanded Bettie, who had just arrived with a littleTucker under each arm.
"They said they'd let them go 'permanently to responsible parties.' Ididn't know just exactly what that meant, so I said: 'Does that meanthat you'll lend me a few for two hours?'"
"And would they?"
"Well, they didn't. They said I'd better borrow a Teddy bear."
"How mean," said sympathetic Bettie. "Nevermind, I'll lend you Peter,this time."
"Say," queried Mabel, after she had accepted Bettie's profferedbrother, "what does 'permanently' mean?"
"For keeps," explained Jean.
"What are 'responsible parties'?"
"Jean and Bettie and I," twinkled Marjory, "but not you."
"That's good," laughed Bob, who, like Marjory, loved to tease. "Butnever mind, Mabel. After you've practised a year or two on Peter,who's a nuisance if there ever was one, you'll find yourself growingrespons---- Whoop! What was that?"
"That" was a sudden crash that resounded through the house. Everybodyrushed to the kitchen. The big dish-pan that Mabel had left on theedge of the kitchen table was upside down on the floor. At leasthalf of little Peter Tucker was under it. But the half that remainedoutside was so unmistakably alive that nobody felt very seriouslyalarmed--except Peter.
"Thank goodness!" said Mabel, removing the pan, "this is just a littleTucker and not any Percival Mercer! Cheer up, Peter. You're not as wetas you think you are. There wasn't more than a quart of water in thatpan and it was almost perfectly clean."
And Peter, soothed by Mabel's reassuring tone, immediately cheered up.