"See here, Woodie!" says I, "you"re elected. You"ll have to stay by the kids until relieved. They"ve adopted you."

"Aw, I say now," says he, "this is too beastly absurd, y"know. It"s a bore. Why, if I don"t find some place or other very soon I"ll get a wetting."

"You can"t go anywhere without those kids," says I; "so come along back with us. We need you in our business."

He didn"t like it a little bit, for he"d figured on shakin" the bunch of us; but he had to go, and when he came right-about-face the procession did a snake movement there in the road that would have done credit to the Seventh Regiment.

I"d been lookin" around for a place to make for. Off over the trees toward the Sound was a flag-pole that I reckoned stood on some kind of a buildin" and there was a road runnin" that way.

"We"ll mosey down towards that," says I; "but we could make better time, Cap"n, if you"d get your party down to light-weight marchin" order.

Suppose you give the command for them to shed them cork jackets."

"Why, really, now," says he, lookin" over the crowd kind of helpless, "I haven"t the faintest idea how to do it, y"know."

"Well, it"s up to you," says I. "Make a speech to "em."

Say, that was the dopiest bunch of kids I ever saw. They acted like they wa"n"t more"n half alive, standin" there in pairs, as quiet as sheep, waitin" for the word. But that"s the way they bring "em up in these Homes, like so many machines, and they didn"t know how to act any other way. Sadie saw it, and dropped down on her knees to gather in as many as she could get her arms around.

"Oh, you poor little wretches!" says she, beginnin" to sniffle.

"Cut it out, Sadie!" says I. "There ain"t any time for that. Unbuckle them belts. Turn to, Cap, and get on the job. You"re in this."

As soon as Woodie showed "em what was wanted, though, they skinned themselves out of those canvas sinkers in no time at all. We left the truck in the road, and with the English gent for drum-major, Sadie in the middle, and me playin" snapper on the end, we starts for the flag-pole. I thought maybe it might be a hotel; but when we got where the road opened out of the woods to show us how near the Sound we was, I sees that it"s a yacht club, with a lot of flags flyin" and a whole bunch of boats anch.o.r.ed off. About then we felt the first wet spots.

"They"ve got to take us into that club-house," says Sadie.

We"d got as far as the gates, one of these fancy kind, with a hood top over the posts, like the roof of a summer-house, when the sprinkler was turned on in earnest. Woodie was gettin" rain-drops on his new uniform, and he didn"t like it.

"I"ll stay here," says he, and bolts under cover.

The Incubator kids swings like they was on a pivot, and piles in after him. There wasn"t anything to do then but stop under the gate, seein" as the club-house was a hundred yards or so off. I snaked Woodie out, though, and made him help me range the youngsters under the middle of the roof; and when we"d got "em packed in four deep, with Sadie squeezed in too, there wa"n"t an inch of room for either of us left.

And was it rainin"? Wow! You"d thought four eights had been rung in and all the water-towers in New York was turned loose on us. And the thunder kept rippin" and roarin", and the chain-lightnin" streaked things up like the finish of one of Colonel Pain"s exhibits.

"Sing to them!" shouts Sadie. "It"s the only way to keep them from being scared to death. Sing!"

"Do you hear that, Woodie?" says I across the top of their heads. "Sing to "em, you lobster!"

The Captain was standing just on the other side of the bunch. He"d got the front half of him under cover, but there wasn"t room for the rest; so it didn"t do him much good, for the roof eaves was leakin" down the back of his neck at the rate of a gallon a minute.

"Only fu-fu-fawncy!" says he. "I don"t fu-feel like singing, y"know."

"Make a noise like you did then," says I. "Come on, now!"

"But really, I cawn"t," says he. "I n-never sing, y"know."

Say, that gave me the backache. "See here, Woodie," says I, lookin" as wicked as I knew how, "you sing or there"ll be trouble! Hit "er up, now!"

That fetched him. He opened his face like he"d swallowed something bitter, made one or two false starts, and strikes up "G.o.d save the King." I didn"t know the words to that, so I makes a stab at "Everybody Works but Father," and Sadie tackles somethin" else.

For a trio that was the limit. The kids hadn"t seemed to mind the thunder and lightnin" a whole lot, but when that three-cornered symphony of ours cut loose they begins to look wild. Some of "em was diggin"

their fists into their eyes and preparin" to leak brine, when all of a sudden Woodie gets into his stride and lets go of three or four notes that sounded as if they might belong together.

That seemed to cheer those youngsters up a lot. One or two pipes up, kind of scared and trembly, but hangin" onto the tune, and the next thing we knew they was all at it, givin" us "My Country "Tis of Thee" in as fine shape as you"d want to hear. We quit then, and listened. They followed up with a couple of good old hymns and, if I hadn"t been afloat from my shoes up, I might have enjoyed the program. It was a good exhibition of nerve, too. Most kids of that size would have gone up in the air and howled blue murder. But they didn"t even show white around the gills.

Inside of ten minutes it was all over. The shower had moved off up into Connecticut, where maybe it was wanted worse, and we got our heads together to map out the next act. Sadie had the say. She was for takin"

the kids over to the swell yacht club there, and waitin" until the nurses or some one else came to take "em off our hands. That suited me; but when it came to gettin" Captain Sir Hunter to march up front and set the pace, he made a strong kick.

"Oh, by Jove, now!" says he, "I couldn"t think of it. Why, I"ve been a guest here, y"know, and I might meet some of the fellows."

"What luck!" says Sadie. "That"ll be lovely if you do."

"You come along, Woodie," says I. "We"ve got our orders."

He might have been a stiff-lookin" Englishman before, but he was limp enough now. He looked like a linen collar that had been through the wash and hadn"t reached the starch tub. His coat-tails was still drippin"

water, and when he walked it sounded like some one was moppin" up a marble floor.

"Only fancy what they"ll think!" he kept sayin" to himself as we got under way.

"They"ll take you for an anti-race-suicide club," says I; "so brace up."

We hadn"t more"n struck the club-house porch, and the steward had rushed out to drive us away, when Sadie gives another one of them squeals that means she"s sighted something good.

"Oh, there"s the Dixie Girl!" says she.

"You must have "em bad," says I. "I don"t see any girl."

"The yacht!" says she, pointin" to the end of the dock. "That big white one. It"s Mrs. Brinley Cubbs" Dixie Girl. You wait here until I see if she"s aboard," and off she goes.

So we lined up in front to wait, the Incubators never takin" their eyes off"n Woodie, and him as pink as a sportin" extra, and sayin" things under his breath. Every time he took a hitch sideways the whole line dressed. All hands from the club turned out to see the show, and the rockin"-chair skippers made funny cracks at us.

"Ahoy the nursery!" says one guy. "Where you bound for?"

"Ask popper," says I. "He"s got the tickets."

Woodie kept his face turned and his jaw shut, and if he had any friends in the crowd I guess they didn"t spot him. I"ll bet he wa"n"t sorry when Sadie shows up on deck and waves for us to come on.

Mrs. Brinley Cubbs was there, all right. She was a tall, loppy kind of female, ready to gush over anything. As well as I could size up the game, she was one of the near-swells, with plenty of gilt but not enough sense to use it right. Her feelin"s were in good workin" order though, and she was willin" to listen to any program that Sadie had on hand.

"Bring the little dears right aboard," says she, "and we"ll have them home before dark. Why, Sir Hunter, is it really you?"

"I"m not altogether sure," says Woodie, "whether it"s I or not," and he made a dive to get below.

Well, say, that was a yacht and a half, that Dixie Girl! The inside of her was slicker"n any parlor car you ever saw. While they was gettin" up steam, and all the way down to the East river, Mrs. Cubbs had the hired hands luggin" up everything eatable they could find, from chicken salad to ice-cream, and we all took a hand pa.s.sin" it out to that Incubator bunch.

They knew what grub was, yes, yes! There wasn"t any holdin" back for an imitation cop to give the signal. The way they did stow in good things that they"d probably never dreamed about before was enough to make a man wish he had John D."s pile and Jake Riis"s heart. I forgot all about bein" wet, and so did Woodie. To see him jugglin" stacks of loaded plates you"d think he"d graduated from a ham-and factory. He seemed to like it, too, and he was wearin" what pa.s.ses for a grin among the English aristocracy. By the time we got to the dock at East 34th-st.

there was more solid comfort and stomach-ache in that cabin than it"ll hold again in a thousand years.

Sadie had me go ash.o.r.e and telephone for two of them big rubber-neck wagons. That gave us time to get the sleepers woke up and arrange "em on the dock. Just as we was gettin" the last of the kids loaded in for their ride up to the Home, a roundsman shows up with two cops.