CHAPTER XXX

IN PERPETUITY

"They shall be mine, saith the Lord of Hosts, in that Day when I make up my jewels."--Malachi iii, 17

All the children joined in planning for that new Home. They talked of it morning, noon and night. Harris Wayne consulted architects and contractors. Surveyors came and went. Drawings were submitted and, because the children were so deeply interested, these were patiently explained to them. Competing architects and contractors came. Consultations and conferences were continuous. Harris Wayne had never been so busy in his life. And with it all he looked younger, as if a load of care had been removed from his shoulders. He was living now, to make others happy and the world a better place for children to live in. He was completely absorbed and happier than he had ever expected to be.

The project was not one that could be completed in a day, a week or even a year. The scope and magnitude of the plans attracted widespread attention. The story of the "sparrows" that flitted from the Grimes baby farm and miraculously crossed the terrible swamps under the leadership of a little girl with a baby on her back was published all over the world. The home of which they would be the first occupants became known as The Sparrows' Nest.

Mollie and the children became famous over night. Their exploits and experiences were recounted in press, pulpit and club rooms. Tourists came to the section for no other purpose than to visit the Grimes place, greet Maria, now living there in peace and solitude, look at the impassable bog over which the children did pass, then motor down to view the progress being made in the erection of their new habitation and to ask permission to contribute toward its maintenance.

Large sums of money poured in unsolicited. Some came from anonymous donors. Some gave funds in memory of other little ones whose memories they wished to perpetuate. Every train brought great sacks of mail, every letter expressing the writer's interest in the gigantic undertaking.

Contributions of all kinds were offered and some even sent without previous notification. Furniture, clothing, food supplies, linens and household appurtenances seemed to rain down upon the Wayne estate months before the new building was even under roof.

Yet there had been no requests made, no agitation on the part of any of the adults now aiding Wayne in pulling his experiment through to a successful finish. It was all the result of one little girl's heroism supplemented by the children's own enthusiasm over a home that should be their very own, and to the graphic accounts they could each give as to what sometimes happens to little children farmed out, as they had been, to one so totally incapable of looking after their well being as was Peter Grimes.

Mollie insisted upon a wonderful nursery with all kinds of toys. Stephen helped plan the library and reading room. Johnnie, now that his foot was being cured by means of braces, announced his intention of becoming a doctor and wanted one wing of the building adapted to surgical purposes so that one day he might help other children as he had been helped. Each child gravitated naturally into the particular sphere for which each was best adapted. The building of The Sparrows' Nest, developed, automatically, into a school for vocational training, so Wayne declared, when he espied one boy devoting all his energy to aiding the carpenters, another to the brick-layers and a third concentrating his attention upon the plumbing arrangements.

Letters from parents and relatives of children asking to have them granted admission to the Home arrived almost as quickly as did the supplies with which to furnish it. Wayne had never imagined there were so many uncared for and homeless little ones awaiting such a shelter as was now going forward.

Former friends came to see him and looked at him curiously. He informed them that he was having "the time of his life."

As for Mollie, she had not believed it possible that she could ever be so happy. She was studying, too, at home, under competent teachers as were the other children. She was making rapid progress. No one, seeing her now would have believed that she was the same ragged, mud-begrimed, barefoot and hungry-looking little girl who, after emerging from the swamp had undertaken to run a launch down the river.

Time came when The Sparrows' Nest was completed and the original nestlings, clad in their neat, new uniforms, welcomed more people than any of them had ever seen at one time. They sang a chorus they had learned and Mollie, not in the least awed by the many curious eyes turned upon her, delivered the little address she had rehearsed for weeks. It was very brief and couched in perfect English. Harris Wayne was proud of her. She would be an ornament to any home and could mother as many children as would ever come within its doors. His daughter worshipped her. Why, he asked himself, should he not? She was fast growing up. She would soon be going away to a finishing school, that she might later be fitted to accompany Doris on her travels. When she returned he might--well, he would wait and see.

* * * * *

Time passed. The gigantic Sparrows' Nest was filled with little ones. They were happy. They loved to sing. They were singing now. Mollie heard them as she approached. Those blessed voices! To her ears they had always been as the sound of heavenly music. How sweetly the piping treble rang out on the balmy air. It mingled with the songs of the birds in the trees and went upward on the breeze of heaven, just as that kite had mounted upward in those dark days of the past.

It was a past that was getting more and more remote. Wonderful changes had come into all their lives. Everything had dated from that day they had flown the kite. It had been a novel idea. Childish, of course, but as an act of faith nothing could have been more sincere. How miserable they all were that day--how desperate she had been! She would have stormed a fortress, if there had been one to storm. God had surely heard their prayers--those prayers of little children!

Mollie smiled and sang softly to herself as she moved swiftly along the driveway leading to the beautiful Home. Let's see, she reflected. Just how many would it accommodate? Five--six hundred, now that the east wing was completed. Splutters had not seen it yet. He would be home soon for the holidays. How thrilled he would be. He was growing tall, he had written. He would be taller than she when they met again. She wondered if she would know him.

Just beyond towered the massive building, surrounded by broad porches, sun parlors and gardens brilliant with flowers. Somewhere there was a fountain playing. Children of all sizes were running about the grounds.

A beautiful little girl with clustering curls and most alluring dimples suddenly detached herself from the others and ran to meet Mollie.

"Oh, Ma-Mollie!" she exclaimed, holding up her rosebud mouth for a kiss. "Isn't it a beautiful home!"

"A home for little children is always a beautiful home if it is built for their happiness," Mollie replied with an adoring look that embraced the Home, the broad lawns and every child within sight or hearing.

"And this," she said softly, half to herself and half to the child at her side, "is the great good that came out of all our suffering."

For Mollie never forgot her wonderful experience that night in the barn loft when the Good Shepherd walked among the children while they slept and tenderly took one of them--the least one--into his arm. At the recollection she raised her eyes to where, near the entrance to this beautiful Home was a marble tablet on which were lettered the words:

To The Least-Ones In Perpetuity. --------------

ADDENDUM

Should it be suggested that the characters and incidents of this story are exaggerated or improbable, it is only necessary to refer to the newspapers of May 2nd, 1926, which published Associated Press accounts of the living counterpart of Peter Grimes and pictures of the children for whose care and maintenance he was paid by their widowed mother.

That human counterpart of the ogre described in these pages did not die in a bog. He was sentenced to die on May 11, 1926 for the murder of one child and the mutilation of others. The verdict against him was reached on the first ballot by a jury of mountaineers from his own district and by whom, until his crimes were discovered, he had for years been considered harmless. The only reason why he did not conceal the evidence of his crimes in a bog was because there happened to be no bog on his premises.