V
BROWN'S UNBORROWED BABY
"Don! Don't take it in! They'll come back for it if you don't--they'rewatching somewhere. Put it back on the doorstone--don't look at it!"
"Why, Sue!" he answered, and for an instant his eyes flashed reproof intohers. "On such a night?"
"But what can you do with it?"
"Make it comfortable, first."
He was unwrapping the bundle. The child was swathed none too heavily inclean cotton comforters; it was crying frantically, and its hands, asBrown's encountered them in the unwinding, were cold and blue. Thereemerged from the wrappings an infant of possibly six weeks' existence ina world which had used it ill.
"Will you take him while I get some milk?" asked Brown, as naturally asif handing crying babies over to his sister were an everyday affair withthem both.
She shook her head, backing away. "Oh, mercy, no! I shouldn't know whatto do with it."
"Sue!" Her brother's tone was suddenly stern. "Don't be that sort ofwoman--don't let me think it of you!"
He continued to hold out the small wailing bundle. She bit her lip,reluctantly extended unaccustomed arms, and received the foundlinginto them.
"Sit down close by the fire, my dear, and get those frozen little handswarm. A bit of mothering won't hurt either of you." And Brown strode awayinto the kitchen with a frown between his brows. He was soon back with asmall cupful of warm milk and water, a teaspoon, and a towel.
"Do you expect to feed a tiny baby with a teaspoon?" Sue askedwith scorn.
"You don't know much about babies, do you, Sue? Well, I may have sometrouble, but it's too late to get any other equipment from my neighbours,and I'll try my luck." She watched with amazement the proceedings whichfollowed. Brown sat down with the baby cradled on his left arm, tuckedthe half-unfolded towel beneath its chin, and with the cup convenientlyat hand upon the table began to convey the milk, drop by drop, to thelittle mouth.
"I don't see how you dare do it. You might choke the child to death."
"Not a bit. He'll swallow a lot of atmosphere and it may give him a pain,but that's better than starving. Isn't it, Baby?"
"You act as if you had half a dozen of your own. What in the world do youknow about babies?"
"Enough to puff me up with pride. Mrs. Murdison, my right-hand neighbour,is the mother of five; Mrs. Kelcey, on my left, has six--and two of themare twins. One twin was desperately ill a while ago. I became wellacquainted with it--and with the other five."
"Don!" Again his sister gazed at him as if she found him pastcomprehension. "You--_you!_ What would your friends--our friends--say, ifthey knew?"
Putting down the teaspoon and withdrawing the towel, Brown snuggled thebaby in his left arm. Warmth and food had begun their work in soothingthe little creature, and it was quiet, its eyelids drooping heavily.
He got up, carried the baby to the couch, with one hand arranged asteamer rug lying there so that it made a warm nest, and laid the smallbundle in it.
Then he returned to his chair by the fire. He lifted his eyes for a long,keen look into his sister's face, until she stirred restlessly under theinspection.
"Well, what do you see?" she asked.
"I see," said Brown slowly, "a woman who is trying to live withoutremembering her immortality."
She shivered suddenly, there before the blazing fire. "I'm not sure thatI believe in it," she said fiercely. "Now I've shocked you, Don, but Ican't help it. I'm not sure of anything, these days. That's why--"
"Why you want to forget. But you can't forget. And the reason why youcan't forget is because you do believe in it. Every day people are tryingto forget one of the greatest facts in the universe. They may deny itwith their lips, but with their hearts they know it is true."
She did not answer. Her brother drew his chair closer, leaned forward,and took one of the jewelled hands in his. He spoke very gently, and inhis voice was a certain quality of persuasion which belongs not to allvoices which would persuade.
"Sue, make room in your life for a little child. You need him."
Her glance evaded his, flashed past his to the small, still bundle on thecouch. Then, suddenly, into her unhappy eyes leaped a suspicion. Shestraightened in her chair.
"You don't mean--you're not suggesting--"
He smiled, comprehending. "No, no--nothing like that. Your heart isn'tbig enough for that--yet. It's the mothers of children who make room forthe waifs, or those who have long been mothers in heart and have beendenied. You don't belong to either of those classes, do you?"
She drew a stifled breath. "You don't know what you are talking about,Don. How could you, a bachelor like you?"
"Couldn't I? Well, Sue, if fathers may be divided into the same twoclasses, I might be found in one of them."
She stared at him. "You? Oh, I can't believe it. You could havemarried long ago, if you had wanted to. You could have marriedanybody--simply anybody!"
"You do me too much honour--or discredit, I'm not just sure which."
"But it's true. With your position--and your money! Rich and brilliantclergymen aren't so common, Donald Brown. And your personality, yourmagnetism! Men care for you. Women have always hung on your words!"
He made a gesture of distaste; got up.
"Sterility of soul is a worse thing than sterility of body," said he."But sometimes--God cures the one when He cures the other."
"But you never prescribed this strange thing before."
He smiled. "I've been learning some things out here, Sue, that I neverlearned before. One of them is how near God is to a little child."
"You've learned that--of your neighbours?" Her accent was indescribable.
"Of my neighbours--and friends."
It was time for her to go. He helped her into her great fur coat andhimself fastened it in place. When she was ready she turned from thewindow from which she had tried in vain to see her surroundings, andthrew at her brother a question which seemed to take him unawares.
"Don, do you know anything about Helena these days?"
Though his face did not change, something about him suggested the mentalbracing of himself for a shock. He shook his head.
"She's dropped everything she used to care for. Nobody knows why. Hermother's in despair about her--you know what a society leader Mrs.Forrest has always been. She can't understand Helena--nor can anybody."
"She's not ill?"
"Apparently not; she's as wonderful to look at as ever, when one meetsher--which one seldom does. The girls say she walks miles every day,so she must be well in body, though even that doesn't assure Mrs.Forrest. I thought, possibly, you might know. You and Helena used tobe such friends."
"We are still, I hope."
His sister's eyes were not easily to be deceived, and they were positivethey saw pain in the eyes which met her own.
"Don," she said softly, "may I ask you one question?"
"Please don't."
"When you were a little boy, and you got hurt in any way, you used to runaway and hide. Are you--hiding now?"
His eyes grew dark with sudden anger, but he replied with self-control:
"You will have to think what you like about that, Sue. If that is the waythe thing looks to you--so be it!"
The sound of the returning car made Mrs. Breckenridge speak hurriedly:
"I didn't mean to be unkind, Don boy. Nobody knows better than I that youare no coward. Only--only--you know an ascetic denies himself things thathe needn't. And--you _are_ an ascetic!"
"Can I never convince you of your mistake about that?" he answered; andnow his lips smiled again, a little stiffly.
She embraced him once more, stopped to say beseechingly, "You won't keepthat baby here, will you, Don?" and, receiving his assurance that hewould consult with his neighbours in the morning as to the welfare of thefoundling, took her departure.
Left alone Brown went back into the quiet room. The baby was stirringamong its wrappings. Bim, who had roused himself to see the visitor off,came
and poked his nose into the bundle.
"We never know what's coming, Bim, do we?" asked Brown of hiscompanion. "Sometimes it's what we want, and sometimes not. But--if weare to teach others we must be taught ourselves, Bim. And that's what'shappening now."