Dear Enemy [62]
that other whimpering little thing. It wasn't natural. But if I gave him Allegra, he would bring her up as his own child, and see that she was provided for for the rest of her life. Did I have any right to cut her out from all that just for a lot of sentimental nonsense? The family was already broken up; the best I could do for them now was to provide for them individually. "Take all three," said I, quite brazenly.
But, no, he couldn't consider that; his wife was an invalid, and one child was all that she could manage.
Well, I was in a dreadful quandary. It seemed such a chance for the child, and yet it did seem so cruel to separate her from those two adoring little brothers. I knew that if the Bretlands adopted her legally, they would do their best to break all ties with the past, and the child was still so tiny she would forget her brothers as quickly as she had her father.
Then I thought about you, Judy, and of how bitter you have always been because, when that family wanted to adopt you, the asylum wouldn't let you go. You have always said that you might have had a home, too, like other children, but that Mrs. Lippett stole it away from you. Was I perhaps stealing little Allegra's home from her? With the two boys it would be different; they could be educated and turned out to shift for themselves. But to a girl a home like this would mean everything. Ever since baby Allegra came to us, she has seemed to me just such another child as baby Judy must have been. She has ability and spirit. We must somehow furnish her with opportunity. She, too, deserves her share of the world's beauty and good--as much as nature has fitted her to appreciate. And could any asylum ever give her that? I stood and thought and thought while Mr. Bretland impatiently paced the floor.
"You have those boys down and let me talk to them," Mr. Bretland insisted. "If they have a spark of generosity, they'll be glad to let her go."
I sent for them, but my heart was a solid lump of lead. They were still missing their father; it seemed merciless to snatch away that darling baby sister, too.
They came hand in hand, sturdy, fine little chaps, and stood solemnly at attention, with big, wondering eyes fixed on the strange gentleman.
"Come here, boys. I want to talk to you." He took each by a hand. "In the house I live in we haven't any little baby, so my wife and I decided to come here, where there are so many babies without fathers and mothers, and take one home to be ours. She will have a beautiful house to live in, and lots of toys to play with, and she will be happy all her life--much happier than she could ever be here. I know that you will be very glad to hear that I have chosen your little sister."
"And won't we ever see her any more?" asked Clifford.
"Oh, yes, sometimes."
Clifford looked from me to Mr. Bretland, and two big tears began rolling down his cheeks. He jerked his hand away and came and hurled himself into my arms.
"Don't let him have her! Please! Please! Send him away!"
"Take them all!" I begged.
But he's a hard man.
"I didn't come for an entire asylum," said he, shortly.
By this time Don was sobbing on the other side. And then who should inject himself into the hubbub but Dr. MacRae, with baby Allegra in his arms!
I introduced them, and explained. Mr. Bretland reached for the baby, and Sandy held her tight.
"Quite impossible," said Sandy, shortly. "Miss McBride will tell you that it's one of the rules of this institution never to separate a family."
"Miss McBride has already decided," said J. F. B., stiffly. "We have fully discussed the question."
"You must be mistaken," said Sandy, becoming his Scotchest, and turning to me. "You surely had no intention of performing any such cruelty as this?"
Here was the decision of Solomon all over again, with two of the stubbornest men that the good Lord ever made wresting poor little Allegra limb from limb.
I despatched the three chicks back to the nursery and returned to the fray. We argued loud and hotly,
But, no, he couldn't consider that; his wife was an invalid, and one child was all that she could manage.
Well, I was in a dreadful quandary. It seemed such a chance for the child, and yet it did seem so cruel to separate her from those two adoring little brothers. I knew that if the Bretlands adopted her legally, they would do their best to break all ties with the past, and the child was still so tiny she would forget her brothers as quickly as she had her father.
Then I thought about you, Judy, and of how bitter you have always been because, when that family wanted to adopt you, the asylum wouldn't let you go. You have always said that you might have had a home, too, like other children, but that Mrs. Lippett stole it away from you. Was I perhaps stealing little Allegra's home from her? With the two boys it would be different; they could be educated and turned out to shift for themselves. But to a girl a home like this would mean everything. Ever since baby Allegra came to us, she has seemed to me just such another child as baby Judy must have been. She has ability and spirit. We must somehow furnish her with opportunity. She, too, deserves her share of the world's beauty and good--as much as nature has fitted her to appreciate. And could any asylum ever give her that? I stood and thought and thought while Mr. Bretland impatiently paced the floor.
"You have those boys down and let me talk to them," Mr. Bretland insisted. "If they have a spark of generosity, they'll be glad to let her go."
I sent for them, but my heart was a solid lump of lead. They were still missing their father; it seemed merciless to snatch away that darling baby sister, too.
They came hand in hand, sturdy, fine little chaps, and stood solemnly at attention, with big, wondering eyes fixed on the strange gentleman.
"Come here, boys. I want to talk to you." He took each by a hand. "In the house I live in we haven't any little baby, so my wife and I decided to come here, where there are so many babies without fathers and mothers, and take one home to be ours. She will have a beautiful house to live in, and lots of toys to play with, and she will be happy all her life--much happier than she could ever be here. I know that you will be very glad to hear that I have chosen your little sister."
"And won't we ever see her any more?" asked Clifford.
"Oh, yes, sometimes."
Clifford looked from me to Mr. Bretland, and two big tears began rolling down his cheeks. He jerked his hand away and came and hurled himself into my arms.
"Don't let him have her! Please! Please! Send him away!"
"Take them all!" I begged.
But he's a hard man.
"I didn't come for an entire asylum," said he, shortly.
By this time Don was sobbing on the other side. And then who should inject himself into the hubbub but Dr. MacRae, with baby Allegra in his arms!
I introduced them, and explained. Mr. Bretland reached for the baby, and Sandy held her tight.
"Quite impossible," said Sandy, shortly. "Miss McBride will tell you that it's one of the rules of this institution never to separate a family."
"Miss McBride has already decided," said J. F. B., stiffly. "We have fully discussed the question."
"You must be mistaken," said Sandy, becoming his Scotchest, and turning to me. "You surely had no intention of performing any such cruelty as this?"
Here was the decision of Solomon all over again, with two of the stubbornest men that the good Lord ever made wresting poor little Allegra limb from limb.
I despatched the three chicks back to the nursery and returned to the fray. We argued loud and hotly,