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Bobby in Search of a Birthday (version 2)

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<h2>CHAPTER IV</h2> <div class='chaptertitle'>THE LADY WHO LIKES LITTLE BOYS</div> The next thing Bobby knew, he woke up to find himself sitting in a great big, soft red chair in a great big, red room with as many as forty or a dozen red-shaded lights, with a strange lady kneeling in front of him. He looked into her eyes, puzzled at finding she was not the 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[30] squeezed Bobby until he could hardly 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 to him 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 for a 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 by your 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 about her so I can find her and tell her you are not lost." "Got no mothers," said Bobby after a long pause. [31] "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 about Bobby 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 little to know what it was." "Your birthdays!" The lady was so surprised[32] that the smile faded from her lips. "Have you lost that?" "Hunted and hunted all day," said Bobby. "And I didn't think about it——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 the spoon." "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 his birthdays." "The Man's Who Lets You Play with the Puppy?" "His little boy's. He has eight of them and presents, glassies, and a bat, and little pigs to help buy you an edge-cation." A delicious drowsiness crept all over Bobby till his eyelids went all tickly and prickly and he rubbed both fists into them. "You're all tired out," said the lady, "and hungry, too. I'm going to get you something to eat and put you to bed. Would you like to be my little boy tonight?" [33] For reply, Bobby flung both arms about her neck and squeezed with all his might until he squeezed a sob right out of her throat. She took him up in her arms and carried him out into a room with a big shiny red table with two red chairs by it. Then she rang a bell and soon a girl with 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 she was back, bringing on a tray the bread, the milk, two little cakes of butter and a dish all ready to run over with red jam. The lady put lots and lots of butter on the bread, besides all the jam it could hold 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 him and asked if he could eat another piece. Of course he could! But, as it happened, he couldn't, for he hadn't eaten half of it when the prickling 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 little white room,[34] and there—it couldn't be! He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. Yes, it was! A little train with an engine and a whole string of cars! 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 of marbles, "glassies" and agates and many other kinds. He felt queer and looked down at himself and found he no longer had on his own clothes but 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 her knees and repeated the sleep-forgotten prayer. He looked up when he had 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 a long time. Finally he squirmed around for another look at the train of cars. [35] The lady must have known that he was through, for he felt gentle hands on 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 much like Bobby's when he had water in his eyes. He looked up and saw there was water in her eyes! Suddenly he felt queer 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 low Bobby 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 as though to help the words come out. "When's he coming back?" [36] The question this time was still harder to answer. "He's never coming back . . . never till I . . . go for him. He was sick a long time . . . until God had pity on him and took him home." "Are you going for him tonight?" asked Bobby in that new, diffident voice. "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 before she 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?" [37] "Seven." Bobby considered that. The little boy whose fathers was the Man Who Lets You Play with the Puppy had eight birthdays and the little boy whose mothers was the Lady Who Likes Little Boys had seven. But her little boy had gone away. Perhaps he wouldn't mind letting him have just one of his birthdays. "Would he let me have just one of his birthdays?" The lady remained perfectly still and did not answer. Bobby added wistfully: "Just till I see what it's like? P'raps I wouldn't want it any more. If I 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 have one of his birthdays. "Not his. I couldn't. Don't. . . . There, dear, go to sleep now and I'll. . . ." She didn't finish what she was saying, but went quickly out, carrying her handkerchief to her face. Bobby was too tired to be very much disappointed, so tired that he fell asleep almost before the swishing of her dress had ceased to sound in his ears. <hr class="chap" /> [38] <div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/i038.png" width-obs="480" height-obs="344" alt="Lady crying alone" /></div> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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