dear enemy-第31章
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she was extremely interested when she heard that Betsy was a college woman。 She couldn't make up her mind whether to send the baby to college or not。 What was Betsy's honest opinion？ If the child were Betsy's own daughter； would Betsy send her to college？
All this would be funny if it weren't so pathetic； but really I can't get away from the picture of that poor lonely woman sewing those doll clothes for the little unknown girl that she wasn't sure she could have。 She lost her own two babies years ago； or； rather； she never had them； they were never alive。
You can see what a good home it's going to be。 There's lots of love waiting for the little mite； and that is better than all the wealth which； in this case； goes along。
But the problem now is to find the child； and that isn't easy。 The J。 F。 Bretlands are so abominably explicit in their requirements。 I have just the baby boy to give them； but with that closetful of dolls； he is impossible。 Little Florence won't doone tenacious parent living。 I've a wide variety of foreigners with liquid brown eyeswon't do at all。 Mrs。 Bretland is a blonde； and daughter must resemble her。 I have several sweet little mites with unspeakable heredity； but the Bretlands want six generations of church…attending grandparents； with a colonial governor at the top。 Also I have a darling little curly…headed girl （and curls are getting rarer and rarer）； but illegitimate。 And that seems to be an unsurmountable barrier in the eyes of adopting parents； though； as a matter of fact； it makes no slightest difference in the child。 However； she won't do。 The Bretlands hold out sternly for a marriage certificate。
There remains just one child out of all these one hundred and seven that appears available。 Our little Sophie's father and mother were killed in a railroad accident； and the only reason she wasn't killed was because they had just left her in a hospital to get an abscess cut out of her throat。 She comes from good common American stock； irreproachable and uninteresting in every way。 She's a washed…out； spiritless； whiney little thing。 The doctor has been pouring her full of his favorite cod…liver oil and spinach； but he can't get any cheerfulness into her。
However； individual love and care does accomplish wonders in institution children； and she may bloom into something rare and beautiful after a few months' transplanting。 So I yesterday wrote a glowing account of her immaculate family history to J。 F。 Bretland； offering to deliver her in Germantown。
This morning I received a telegram from J。 F。 B。 Not at all！ He does not purpose to buy any daughter sight unseen。 He will come and inspect the child in person at three o'clock on Wednesday next。
Oh dear； if he shouldn't like her！ We are now bending all our energies toward enhancing that child's beauty…like a pup bound for the dog show。 Do you think it would be awfully immoral if I rouged her cheeks a suspicion？ She is too young to pick up the habit。
Heavens！ what a letter！ A million pages written without a break。 You can see where my heart is。 I'm as excited over little Sophie's settling in life as though she were my own darling daughter。
Respectful regards to the president。
SAL。 McB。
Dear Gordon：
That was an obnoxious； beastly； low…down trick not to send me a cheering line for four weeks just because； in a period of abnormal stress I once let you go for three。 I had really begun to be worried for fear you'd tumbled into the Potomac。 My chicks would miss you dreadfully； they love their uncle Gordon。 Please remember that you promised to send them a donkey。
Please also remember that I'm a busier person than you。 it's a lot harder to run the John Grier Home than the House of Representatives。 Besides； you have more efficient people to help。
This isn't a letter； it's an indignant remonstrance。 I'll write tomorrowor the next day。
S。
P。S。 On reading your letter over again I am slightly mollified； but dinna think I believe a' your saft words。 I ken weel ye only flatter when ye speak sae fair。
July 17。 Dear Judy：
I have a history to recount。
This； please remember； is Wednesday next。 So at half…past two o'clock our little Sophie was bathed and brushed and clothed in fine linen； and put in charge of a trusty orphan； with anxious instructions to keep her clean。
At three…thirty to the minutenever have I known a human being so disconcertingly businesslike as J。 F。 Bretlandan automobile of expensive foreign design rolled up to the steps of this imposing chateau。 A square…shouldered； square…jawed personage； with a chopped…off mustache and a manner that inclines one to hurry； presented himself three minutes later at my library door。 He greeted me briskly as 〃Miss McKosh。〃 I gently corrected him； and he changed to 〃Miss McKim。〃 I indicated my most soothing armchair； and invited him to take some light refreshment after his journey。 He accepted a glass of water （I admire a temperate parent）； and evinced an impatient desire to be done with the business。 So I rang the bell and ordered the little Sophie to be brought down。
〃Hold on； Miss McGee！〃 said he to me。 〃I'd rather see her in her own environment。 I will go with you to the playroom or corral or wherever you keep your youngsters。〃
So I led him to the nursery； where thirteen or fourteen mites in gingham rompers were tumbling about on mattresses on the floor。 Sophie； alone in the glory of feminine petticoats； was ensconced in the blue…ginghamed arms of a very bored orphan。 She was squirming and fighting to get down； and her feminine petticoats were tightly wound about her neck。 I took her in my arms； smoothed her clothes； wiped her nose； and invited her to look at the gentleman。
That child's whole future hung upon five minutes of sunniness； and instead of a single smile； she WHINED！
Mr。 Bretland shook her hand in a very gingerly fashion and chirruped to her as you might to a pup。 Sophie took not the slightest notice of him； but turned her back； and buried her face in my neck。 He shrugged his shoulders； supposed that they could take her on trial。 She might suit his wife； he himself didn't want one； anyway。 And we turned to go out。
Then who should come toddling straight across his path but that little sunbeam Allegra！ Exactly in front of him she staggered； threw her arms about like a windmill； and plumped down on all fours。 He hopped aside with great agility to avoid stepping on her； and then picked her up and set her on her feet。 She clasped her arms about his leg； and looked up at him with a gurgling laugh。
〃Daddy！ Frow baby up！〃
He is the first man； barring the doctor； whom the child has seen for weeks； and evidently he resembles somewhat her almost forgotten father。
J。 F。 Bretland picked her up and tossed her in the air as handily as though it were a daily occurrence； while she ecstatically shrieked her delight。 Then when he showed signs of lowering her； she grasped him by an ear and a nose； and drummed a tattoo on his stomach with both feet。 No one could ever accuse Allegra of lacking vitality！
J。 F。 disentangled himself from her endearments； and emerged； rumpled as to hair； but with a firm…set jaw。 He set her on her feet； but retained her little doubled…up fist。
〃This is the kid for me；〃 he said。 〃I don't believe I need to look any further。〃
I explained that we couldn't separate little Allegra from her brothers； but the more I objected； the stubborner his jaw became。 We went back to the library； and argued about it for half an hour。
He liked her heredity； he liked her looks； he liked her spirit； he liked HER。 If he was going to have a daughter foisted on him； he wanted one with some ginger。 He'd be hanged if he'd take 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 broke
