Marjorie's Busy Days

by Carolyn Wells

  CHAPTER XIII

  A FAIR EXCHANGE?

  Mrs. Maynard opened the front door just as the children approached withthe baby-carriage.

  "Come along, girlies!" she cried. "Marjorie, wheel the carriage rightinto the hall."

  "The baby's asleep, Mother," said Midget, as she and Gladys brought thecarriage over the door-sill.

  "Oh, is she? Totty's asleep, Mildred," she called, in a stage whisper,to Mrs. Harrison, who was upstairs.

  "I thought she would be," responded that lady. "Just throw back herveil, and leave her as she is. She often takes her nap in her carriage,and there's no use waking her."

  Gently, Mrs. Maynard turned back the veil from the little sleeping face,and, as she had no thought of anything being wrong, she did not noticeany difference in the baby features.

  "Gladys, we'd like to have you stay to luncheon," she said. "So you andMidge run upstairs and tidy your curls at once." With demure steps, butwith dancing eyes, the girls went upstairs.

  "I'm afraid it's mischief," whispered Gladys to Marjorie, as she tiedher hair-ribbon for her.

  "No, it isn't!" declared Midge, stoutly. "It's only a joke, and it can'tdo any harm. Mother didn't know it was a different baby, and I don'tbelieve Mrs. Harrison will know either."

  Trim and tidy once more the two friends went downstairs.

  As they were on the stairs they heard the sound of the telephone bell.

  Mrs. Maynard answered it, and in a moment Gladys realized that her ownmother was talking at the other end of the wire.

  After a short conversation, Mrs. Maynard hung up the receiver, and said:

  "Mrs. Fulton says that Mr. Fulton has come home quite unexpectedly andthat they are going for an afternoon's motor ride. She wants both of yougirls to go, but she says you must fly over there at once, as they'reall ready to start. She tried to tell us sooner, but couldn't get aconnection on the telephone."

  "But we haven't had luncheon," said Marjorie, "and I'm fairly starving."

  "They're taking luncheon with them," explained Mrs. Maynard. "And youmust go at once, not to keep Mr. Fulton waiting. Of course, you needn'tgo if you don't want to, Midge."

  "Oh, I do! I'm crazy to go! And luncheon in baskets is such fun! Whatshall I wear, Mother?"

  "Go just as you are. That frock is quite clean. Put on your hat andcoat, and I'll get a long veil for you."

  Gladys had already run off home, and Marjorie was soon equipped andready to follow.

  As she flew out of the door, she remembered the joke about the babies.

  "Oh, Mother, I've something to tell you!" she cried.

  "Never mind now," said Mrs. Maynard, hurrying her off. "It will keeptill you get back. And I hate to have you keep the Fultons waiting.They're in haste to start. So kiss me, and run along."

  Even as she spoke, Dick Fulton appeared, saying he had been sent tohurry Marjorie up; so taking Dick's hand, the two ran swiftly down thepath to the gate. Mrs. Maynard watched Marjorie's flying feet, and aftershe was out of sight around the corner, the lady returned to the house.

  With a glance at the sleeping child, she turned to Mrs. Harrison, whowas just coming downstairs.

  "Totty is sleeping sweetly," she said, "so come at once to luncheon,Mildred."

  "In a moment, Helen. I think I'll take off her cap and coat; she'll betoo warm."

  "You'll waken her if you do."

  "Oh, well, she'll drop right to sleep again; she always does. Andanyway, it's time she had a drink of milk."

  "Very well, Mildred. You take off her wraps, and I'll ask Sarah to warmsome milk for her."

  Mrs. Maynard went to speak to Sarah, and Mrs. Harrison lifted thesleeping baby from the carriage.

  She sat the blinking-eyed child on her knee while she unfastened hercoat. Then she took off the veil and cap, and then,--she stared at thebaby, and the baby stared at her.

  Suddenly Mrs. Harrison gave a scream.

  "Helen, Helen!" she called to her friend, and Mrs. Maynard came runningto her side.

  "What _is_ the matter, Mildred? Is Totty ill?"

  By this time the baby too had begun to scream. Always afraid ofstrangers, Miss Dotty Curtis didn't know what to make of the scenes inwhich she found herself, nor of the strange lady who held her.

  "Mildred, dear, what is the matter? You look horror-stricken! And whatails Totty?"

  "This isn't my child!" wailed Mrs. Harrison.

  "Totty isn't your child! What _do_ you mean?"

  "But this isn't, Totty! It isn't my baby! I don't know who it is."

  "Mildred, you're crazy! Of course this is Totty. These are her blue kidshoes. And this is her coat and cap."

  "I don't care if they are! It isn't Totty at all. Oh, where is my baby?"

  Mrs. Harrison was on the verge of hysterics, and Mrs. Maynard wasgenuinely alarmed.

  "Behave yourself, Mildred!" she said, sternly. "Gather yourselftogether. Here, sip this glass of water."

  "I'm perfectly sensible," said Mrs. Harrison, quieting down a little, asshe noticed her friend's consternation. "But I tell you, Helen, this is_not_ my baby. Doesn't a mother know her own child? Totty's hair is alittle longer, and her eyes are a little larger. I don't know who thisbaby is, but she isn't mine."

  "I believe you're right," said Mrs. Maynard, looking more closely at thescreaming baby.

  "There, there!" she said, taking the frightened little one in her ownarms.

  "Ma-ma!" cried the baby.

  "Hear her voice!" exclaimed Mrs. Harrison. "That isn't the way my Tottytalks. Oh, Helen, what has happened?"

  "I don't know," said Mrs. Maynard, her face very white. "It doesn't seempossible that any marauder should have slipped into the house and putthis child in Totty's place. Why, it was only about a half-hour ago thatthe girls brought Totty in. Mildred, are you _sure_ this isn't Totty?"

  "Am I sure! Yes, I am. Wouldn't you know your own children fromstrangers? Helen, a dreadful crime has been committed. Somehow this babyhas been substituted for mine. Oh, Totty, where _are_ you now?"

  "What shall I do, Mildred? Shall I call up Mr. Maynard on the telephone,or shall I ring up the police station?"

  "Yes, call the police. It's dreadful, I know, but how else can we findTotty?"

  Meantime Sarah appeared with a cup of warm milk.

  The baby stretched out eager little hands, and Mrs. Maynard carefullyheld the cup for her to drink.

  "She's a nice little thing," observed that lady. "See how prettily shebehaves."

  "Helen, you'll drive me crazy. I don't care how she behaves, she isn'tTotty. Why, that isn't even Totty's little dress. So you see thekidnapper did change her shoes and wraps, but not her frock."

  Mrs. Harrison showed signs of hysterics, and Mrs. Maynard was at herwits' end what to do.

  "I suppose I'd better call the police," she said. "Here, Mildred, youhold this baby."

  Mrs. Harrison gingerly took the baby that wasn't hers, and looked like amartyr as she held her.

  But comforted by the warm food, the baby pleasantly cuddled up in Mrs.Harrison's arms and went to sleep.

  Mrs. Maynard, greatly puzzled, went to the telephone, but before shetouched it there was a furious peal at the front-door bell.

  The moment the door was opened, in rushed a pretty, but frantic and veryangry, little lady, carrying a child.

  "Where's my baby?" she demanded, as she fairly stamped her foot at Mrs.Maynard.

  "That's my child!" she went on, turning to Mrs. Harrison. "What are youdoing with her?"

  "I don't want her!" cried Mrs. Harrison. "But what are _you_ doing with_my_ baby?"

  Totty, in the visitor's arms, held out her hands to her mother, andgurgled with glee.

  "Ma-ma!" said the other baby, waking up at all this commotion andholding out her hands also.

  The exchange was made in a moment, and, still unpacified, Mrs. Harrisonand Mrs. Curtis glared at each other.

  Mrs. Maynard struggled to suppress her laughter, for the scene was afunny one; but
she knew the two ladies were thoroughly horrified at themystery, and mirth would be quite out of place.

  "Let me introduce you," she said. "Mrs. Curtis, this is my dear friend,Mrs. Harrison. Your little ones are the same age, and look very muchalike."

  "Not a bit alike," said both mothers, at once.

  "I confess," went on Mrs. Maynard, "that I can't understand it at all,but you certainly each have your own babies now; so, my dear Mrs.Curtis, won't you tell me what you know about this very strange affair?"

  Mrs. Curtis had recovered her equilibrium, and, as she sat comfortablyholding Dotty, she smiled, with a little embarrassment.

  "Dear Mrs. Maynard," she said, "I'm afraid I understand it all betterthan you do; but I'm also afraid, if I explain it to you, you will,--itwill make----"

  Suddenly Mrs. Maynard saw a gleam of light.

  "Marjorie!" she exclaimed.

  "Yes," said Mrs. Curtis; "I think it was due to Miss Mischief. When Ireturned home from an errand, Lisa said that your Marjorie and GladysFulton had had Dotty out in her carriage, and had also another baby whowas visiting you. The girls had left Dotty--or rather, Lisa supposed itwas Dotty--asleep in her coach, and Nurse let her stay there, asleep,until my return. Then the child wakened--and it wasn't Dotty at all! Thebaby had on Dot's slippers, cap, coat, and veil, but the rest of herclothes I had never seen before. I felt sure there had been foul play ofsome sort, but Lisa was sure those girls had exchanged the babies'clothes on purpose. I hoped Lisa was right, but I feared she wasn't, soI picked up the baby and ran over here to see."

  Mrs. Maynard was both grieved and chagrined.

  "How could Marjorie do such a thing!" she exclaimed.

  "Oh, don't be too hard on her, Mrs. Maynard," said Mrs. Curtis. "It'sall right, now, and you know Marjorie and Gladys are a mischievouspair."

  "But this is inexcusable," went on Mrs. Maynard. "Mrs. Harrison nearlywent frantic, and you were certainly greatly alarmed."

  Mrs. Curtis smiled pleasantly. "I was," she admitted, "but it was onlyfor a few moments. I was mystified rather than alarmed, for Lisa saidthe carriage had not been out of her sight a moment, except when thegirls had it."

  Mrs. Curtis took her leave, and, carrying with her her own baby, wentaway home.

  Mrs. Maynard made sincere apologies to her friend for naughty Marjorie'smischief.

  "Never mind, Helen," said Mrs. Harrison. "I can see now it was only achildish prank, and doubtless Marjorie and Gladys expected a good laughover it; then they ran off unexpectedly and forgot all about thebabies."

  Mrs. Maynard remembered then that Midget had said at the last momentthat she had something to tell her, but that she had hurried the childoff.

  "Still," she thought to herself, "that was no excuse for Midge. Sheshould have told me."

  After a refreshing luncheon, Mrs. Harrison was able to view the mattermore calmly.

  "Don't punish Marjorie for this, Helen," she said. "Children will bechildren, and I daresay those girls thought it would be a fine joke onme."

  "I certainly shall punish her, Mildred. She is altogether toothoughtless, and too careless of other people's feelings. She never doeswilful or malicious wrong, but she tumbles into mischief thoughtlessly.She will be honestly grieved when she learns how frightened and upsetyou were, and she'll never do such a thing again. But, the trouble isshe'll do some other thing that will be equally naughty, but somethingthat no one can foresee or warn her against."

  "Well, just for my sake, Helen, don't punish her this time; at least,not much. I really oughtn't to have gone to pieces so; I ought to haverealized that it could all be easily explained."

  But Mrs. Maynard would not promise to condone Midget's fault entirely,and argued that she really ought to be punished for what turned out tobe a troublesome affair.

  Mrs. Harrison went home about four o'clock, and it was five beforeMarjorie returned.

  Her mother met her at the door.

  "Did you have a pleasant time, Marjorie?" she said.

  "Oh, yes, Mother; we had a lovely time. We went clear to Ridge Park. Oh,I _do_ love to ride in an automobile."

  "Go and take off your things, my child, and then come to me in my room."

  "Yes, Mother," said Marjorie, and she danced away to take off her hat.

  "Here I am, Mother," she announced, a little later. "Now shall I tellyou all about my afternoon?"

  "Not quite yet, dear. I'll tell you all about my afternoon first. Mrs.Harrison had a very unhappy time, and of course that made me unhappyalso."

  "Why, Mother, what was the trouble about?"

  Mrs. Maynard looked into the clear, honest eyes of her daughter, andsighed as she realized that Marjorie had no thought of what had made thetrouble.

  "Why did you put Dotty Curtis' cloak and hat on Totty?"

  Then the recollection came back to Marjorie.

  "Oh, Mother!" she cried, as she burst into a ringing peal of laughter."Wasn't it a funny joke! Did Mrs. Harrison laugh? Did she know her ownbaby?"

  "Marjorie, I'm ashamed of you. No, Mrs. Harrison did not laugh. Ofcourse she knew that the child you left in the carriage was not herlittle Totty, and as she didn't know what had happened, she had a verybad scare, and her nerves were completely unstrung."

  "But why, Mother?" said Marjorie, looking puzzled. "I thought shewouldn't know the difference. But if she did know right away it wasn'tTotty, why didn't she go over to Mrs. Curtis' and change them backagain?"

  "She didn't know Totty was at Mrs. Curtis'. Neither did I. We neverdreamed that you couldn't be trusted to take a baby out to ride andbring her home safely. She thought some dreadful thing had happened toher child."

  "Oh, Mother, did she? I'm so sorry. I never meant to tease her that way.I only thought it would be a funny joke to see her think Dotty wasTotty."

  "But, my little girl, you ought to have realized that it was a cruel andeven a dangerous joke. You cannot carelessly dispose of little humanbeings as if they were dolls, or other inanimate things."

  "I never thought of that, Mother. And, anyway, I started to tell youabout it, just as I went away, and you told me to run along, and tellyou what I had to tell after I came home."

  "I thought you'd say that; but of course I thought you meant you wantedto tell me some trifling incident, or something of little importance.Can't you understand that what you did was not a trifle, but a gravepiece of misbehavior?"

  "Mischief, Mother?"

  Mrs. Maynard bit her lip to keep from smiling at Marjorie's innocentrequest for information.

  "It was mischief, I suppose. But it was more than that. It was realwrong-doing. When little girls are trusted to do anything, they ought tobe very careful to do it earnestly and thoroughly, exactly as it ismeant to be done. If you had stopped to think, would you have thoughteither of those mothers _wanted_ you to exchange their babies?"

  Marjorie pondered.

  "No," she said, at last; "but, truly, if I had thought ever so hard Iwouldn't have thought they'd mind it so much. Can't they take a joke,Mother?"

  "Marjorie, dear, you have a fun-loving disposition, but if it is to makeyou joy and not sorrow all your life, you must learn what constitutes adesirable 'joke.' To begin with, practical jokes are rarely, if ever,desirable."

  "What is a practical joke?"

  "It's a little difficult to explain, my dear; but it's usually awell-laid plan to make somebody feel foolish or angry, or appearridiculous. I think you hoped Mrs. Harrison would appear ridiculous bypetting another child while thinking it was her own. And you meant tostand by and laugh at her."

  This was putting it rather plainly, but Marjorie could not deny thetruth of her mother's statement.

  "And so," went on Mrs. Maynard, "that was a very wrong intent,especially from a little girl to a grown person. Practical jokes amongyour playmates are bad enough, but this was far worse."

  "I understand, Mother, now that you've explained it; but, truly, Ididn't mean to do anything so awfully dreadful. How are you going topunish m
e?"

  "Mrs. Harrison was very forgiving, and begged me not to punish youseverely. But I think you deserve a pretty hard penance; don't you?"

  "Why, the way you tell me about it, I think I do. But the way I meantit, seems so different."

  "Well, I've thought it over, and I've decided on this. You dislike tosew; don't you?"

  "Yes, I do!" said Marjorie, emphatically.

  "I know you do. But I think you ought to learn to sew, and, moreover, Ithink this would be an appropriate thing to do. I want you to make alittle dress for Totty. I will do the more difficult parts, such asputting it together, but you must run the tucks, and hem it, andoverhand the seams. And it must be done very neatly, as all babies'dresses should be dainty and fine. You may work half an hour on it everyday, and, when it is finished, it will be a pretty little gift for Mrs.Harrison, and it will also teach you something of an old-fashioned butuseful art."

  Marjorie drew a deep sigh. "All right, Mother. I'll try to do it nicely;but oh, how I hate a thimble! I never again will mix up people'sbabies. But I didn't think it was such an awful, dreadful thing to do."

  "You're a strange child, Midget," said her mother, looking at herthoughtfully. "I never know what you're going to do next."

  "I never know myself," said Marjorie, cheerfully, "but you can alwayspunish me, you know."

  "But I don't want to. I want you to behave so you won't needpunishment."

  "I'll try real hard," said Midge, as she kissed her mother, again andagain.