Immigrant children -- Fiction; Lower East Side (New York, N.Y.) -- Fiction; Teachers -- Fiction
Oh! it was easy, fatally easy, to recognize the answer to her petition!
The noise subsided as Esther noiselessly pattered over to it, and from
an end of its roll of flannel a bright head projected. Esther picked it
up and beat a hasty retreat unobserved by the workers at the bedside.
Down the dark stairs she passed with her burden, and into the
drawing-room again. She snuggled down beside it in her crib and for a
few ecstatic moments held it in her arms. The clock struck four, and, as
Esther quivered and listened still for the descent of the doctor, the
baby raised up its voice again in one prolonged and breathless yell.
Jacob was beside the crib in an instant and had his daughter in his
arms.
"What is it?" he questioned wildly. "Where is it? What hurt thee?" And
then his heart too skipped a beat, for he found that though he had
Esther in his arms he had left her voice in the crib.
"It ain't me," she finally managed to assure him. "It's mine little
brother what I gets out of the Central Park."
Lights, Mrs. Moriarty, explanations, and expostulations followed.
"I tells that Stork," Esther ended, "I tells him I ain't got no families
und no aunties, und I needs a baby, und I has a bed ready. It _is_ mine
baby. Storks is crazy fools!"
But the inexorable John Nolan set out upon his mission of restitution.
Esther, puzzled, heart-broken, argumentative, sped on before, and
reached, not without some skirmishing, the side of the golden-haired
lady, while her father was still struggling with the darkness and his
unaccustomed burden.
And then the miracles began. The lady heard a step upon the stairs and a
great radiance fell upon her. Wonder, incredulity, and joy shone in her
lovely eyes. The doctor's hand was on her wrist. The nurse's admonitions
were in her ears. But she raised herself among her pillows and watched
the turn of the stairs where a shaft of light streamed through the open
door.
Esther's father came out of the darkness, and the lady wrenched her hand
from the doctor and stretched both her arms toward the oncoming figure,
and "Jacob," said she, and quite gently fainted into the doctor's arms.
"No excitement, no fuss," commanded that authority. "She's all right,
coming round in a minute. Here, stand there. Speak naturally to her.
There, she's coming now."
"Why, Esther," said Jacob quietly in soft Hungarian, "I've been
wondering where you were."
The lady mit the from-gold hair laid her other hand on his, smiled a
little wearily, and instantly dropped asleep.
"You ain't asked her whose is that baby," his daughter whispered to
him. "You ain't asked her did she write letters on that Stork?"
"I guess it's our baby all right," her father answered. "You just carry
it down and put it in the bed that's been waiting for it. Tell Mrs.
Moriarty that your auntie was living here all the time."
"Mine auntie!" cried Esther. "Mine auntie! My, but Storks is smart!" she
gasped repentantly.
THE ETIQUETTE OF YETTA
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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