Bobby in Search of a Birthday Page 4

  CHAPTER IV

  THE LADY WHO LIKES LITTLE BOYS

  The next thing Bobby knew, he woke up to find himself sitting in agreat big, soft red chair in a great big, red room with as many asforty or a dozen red-shaded lights, with a strange lady kneeling infront of him. He looked into her eyes, puzzled at finding she was notthe Supe'tendent.

  "You don't remember one thing that happened, do you?" laughed the lady.

  "Yes'm," said Bobby after a pause, smiling sleepily back at her."You're the Lady Who Likes Little Boys."

  "You darling!" murmured the lady and squeezed Bobby until he couldhardly breathe. "Tell me where you live."

  "There," and he pointed hesitatingly towards the top of the door."N-No, that way. Don't know." The knowledge that he was lost came tohim and that lower lip began to twitch tremulously.

  "Never mind, dear, I'll find your home. What is your father's name?"

  Bobby's big brown eyes opened wide and he stared at her unblinking fora while.

  "Got none," he answered at last.

  "Then your mother. What is her name?"

  "Got none," he repeated.

  "But she must have a name. Tell me what you call her when she sits byyour bed at night and kisses you and tucks you in," coaxed the lady.

  Bobby sat up straight.

  "Do mothers do that?"

  "Why, yes. Don't you know?" And the lady kissed Bobby.

  "No'm," said Bobby wistfully.

  "She must be worried frantic because you don't come home. Tell me abouther so I can find her and tell her you are not lost."

  "Got no mothers," said Bobby after a long pause.

  "Who are you? What's the rest of your name?"

  "Bobby North, little imp."

  The lady didn't like that: she almost frowned.

  "You're not _that_ at all. Who ever told you so?"

  "Supe'tendent at the Home said so."

  "Oh," said the lady, taking in her breath quickly, "then you're--"

  The Lady Who Likes Little Boys stopped: then she put her arms aboutBobby and squeezed till he squirmed.

  "Yes'm," said Bobby timidly, trying to breathe.

  "How did you come to be wandering alone along the road?"

  Bobby looked at her for a long time without moving an eyelash.

  "Please, will telling be thinking about it?"

  "Not if you whisper it close in my ear."

  Bobby took his courage in both hands, placed his lips close to her ear,shut both eyes tight, and whispered all in a breath:

  "Wanted to find my birthdays which I lost before when I was too littleto know what it was."

  "Your birthdays!" The lady was so surprised that the smile faded fromher lips. "Have you lost _that_?"

  "Hunted and hunted all day," said Bobby. "And I _didn't_ think aboutit----Not _very_ much."

  "Why didn't you think about it? Can't you tell me?"

  Bobby opened his eyes wide.

  "'Cause if you don't think about it maybe I'll step on it like thespoon."

  "Who told you that?"

  "The Man Who Lets You Play with the Puppy."

  "Who is he? Don't you remember his name?"

  "No'm," said Bobby after a long struggle to think. "To-day is hisbirthdays."

  "The Man's Who Lets You Play with the Puppy?"

  "His little boy's. He has eight of them and presents, glassies, and abat, and little pigs to help buy you an edge-cation."

  A delicious drowsiness crept all over Bobby till his eyelids went alltickly and prickly and he rubbed both fists into them.

  "You're all tired out," said the lady, "and hungry, too. I'm going toget you something to eat and put you to bed. Would you like to be mylittle boy tonight?"

  For reply, Bobby flung both arms about her neck and squeezed with allhis might until he squeezed a sob right out of her throat. She took himup in her arms and carried him out into a room with a big shiny redtable with two red chairs by it. Then she rang a bell and soon a girlwith a little white apron came in.

  "Sarah, bring me a glass of milk, some bread and butter and jam."

  "Why does that girl wear a little white apron?" asked Bobby. "Is she a'tendant?"

  "No, she's the maid," replied the lady.

  The girl seemed hardly to have had time to leave the room before shewas back, bringing on a tray the bread, the milk, two little cakes ofbutter and a dish all ready to run over with red jam. The lady putlots and lots of butter on the bread, besides all the jam it couldhold without running over the edges, and watched Bobby eat it all up.She didn't tell him to pick up the crumbs,--just kept smiling at himand asked if he could eat another piece. Of course he could! But, asit happened, he couldn't, for he hadn't eaten half of it when theprickling in his eyelids got so bad he had to close them.

  When he opened his eyes again, he was in a little white bed in a littlewhite room, and there--it couldn't be! He rubbed the sleep out of hiseyes. Yes, it was! A little train with an engine and a whole string ofcars! He looked around.

  In one corner of the room stood a baseball bat with a catcher's glove,and there on the little stand by the window was a box all full ofmarbles, "glassies" and agates and many other kinds. He felt queer andlooked down at himself and found he no longer had on his own clothesbut a nice clean nighty.

  "What made you wake, dear?"

  He twisted his head and there sat the Lady Who Likes Little Boys,smiling at him.

  It took him a long time to think of the reason.

  "Please, I forgot 'Now I lay me'."

  "Will you say it to me, right here at my knees?"

  Bobby climbed out of the bed, knelt by the lady, laid his head on herknees and repeated the sleep-forgotten prayer. He looked up when hehad finished and found the lady had covered her face with both hands.Perhaps she was saying her "Now I lay me," and Bobby kept still for along time. Finally he squirmed around for another look at the train ofcars.

  The lady must have known that he was through, for he felt gentle handson his shoulders.

  "Who taught you that?" she asked.

  "The 'tendant with the blue and white dress."

  "It's--it's beautiful," said the lady in a voice that sounded very muchlike Bobby's when he had water in his eyes.

  He looked up and saw there was water in _her_ eyes! Suddenly he feltqueer inside and knew something without having been told.

  "Is the train your little boy's?"

  "Yes, dear. This was his room."

  "And his bed?"

  "Yes; everything in the room was his."

  "Where is your little boy?"

  It was quite a long time before she replied and then it was so lowBobby scarcely heard.

  "He's gone away."

  "When did he go away?"

  That seemed a very hard question to answer.

  "Three months ago," said the lady at last, her fingers at her throat asthough to help the words come out.

  "When's he coming back?"

  The question this time was still harder to answer.

  "He's never coming back . . . never till I . . . go for him. He wassick a long time . . . until God had pity on him and took him home."

  "Are you going for him tonight?" asked Bobby in that new, diffidentvoice.

  "No, dear. I can't go for a long, long time."

  "Not till he gets growed up?"

  The Lady Who Likes Little Boys put a handkerchief to her eyes beforeshe answered.

  "Not . . . not till God sends for me."

  Bobby remained silent till his eyes fell on the box of marbles.

  "Can I play with the marbles till he comes back?"

  "Yes, dear, tomorrow when you've had your sleep out."

  Then Bobby looked at the little train again and fell to wondering;perhaps this boy, too, had birthdays. He turned to the lady.

  "Did your little boy have birthdays?"

  "Yes, dear. Day after tomorrow is his birthday."

  "Are you going to cel'brate it?"

  "Yes . . . in my heart.
" It was just a whisper that Bobby barely heard.

  "How many birthdays did he have?"

  "Seven."

  Bobby considered that. The little boy whose fathers was the Man WhoLets You Play with the Puppy had eight birthdays and the little boywhose mothers was the Lady Who Likes Little Boys had seven. But _her_little boy had gone away. Perhaps he wouldn't mind letting him havejust one of his birthdays.

  "Would he let me have just _one_ of his birthdays?"

  The lady remained perfectly still and did not answer. Bobby addedwistfully:

  "Just till I see what it's like? P'raps I wouldn't want it any more. IfI _did_ like it, then I could go on hunting for the birthdays I lost."

  He knew before she spoke that _her_ little boy wouldn't let him haveone of his birthdays.

  "Not his. I couldn't. Don't. . . . There, dear, go to sleep now andI'll. . . ."

  She didn't finish what she was saying, but went quickly out, carryingher handkerchief to her face. Bobby was too tired to be very muchdisappointed, so tired that he fell asleep almost before the swishingof her dress had ceased to sound in his ears.