So saying, she hurried upstairs, and in a short time returned, carrying the drawer. Anne and the two girls helped cushion it softly, and then they placed Billy in it.
He was asleep almost before the bed was ready, and the moment his head sank into the soft pillow, he closed his eyes.
"He seems unusually good, Anne," ventured Mrs. Stewart, as the four foster mothers stood gazing down at the flushed little baby-face.
"And very pretty for a young child," added Anne.
"Well," sighed Polly, "I suppose we'll have to hand him back in the morning."
"Some time during the night, most likely," grumbled Eleanor. "The police will tell his folks where he is, and they will be at our door ten minutes later."
But no one called for Billy, that night, and in the morning the papers told the story of the foundling. A minute description of his appearance and clothing was given, and the telephone number of the family where he was to be found. Mrs. Evans had wisely refrained from giving any names of the tenants of the Studio.
Before seven o'clock that morning, the telephone began ringing. Anne answered it, but described the baby left on their door-step differently from what the anxious mother on the other end of the wire had expected.
By eight-thirty, the telephone had called Anne or Polly five times. At last Polly said: "My goodness! how can five mothers lose boys like ours in one evening? Can't they take care of them?"
Eleanor then said, "Why, in Chicago, there are records of more than a score of babies lost every day. Most of them find their parents again, but lots of them don't."
"What happens to the poor tots who can't find their folks again?" asked Polly, horrified.
"They go to the orphan asylum--or the Children's Home."
With a gasp, Polly glanced at their laughing little Billy. Then she looked anxiously at her three companions. They had all thought of the same thing, it seems.
"I just couldn't let him go to a foundling home," Polly whimpered.
"We can afford to keep him, Polly. You and I can adopt him," declared Eleanor.
But Anne did not seem to approve of the plan. She shook her head as she gazed at the curly-haired boy who was banging the breakfast table with a teaspoon. "That would never do for you, girls."