The Mystery of the Castaway Children

legs and feet were splotched with dried mud. “I forgot to take my bath,” she giggled. “Let’s meet on the front porch.”
    Bobby had wisely refrained from mentioning baths. “Let me come, too,” he suggested.
    Mr. Belden glanced outside at the dark sky. “I think you have a previous engagement with the tub and your bed, son.”
    Bobby poked out his lower lip, but he spoiled the effect by yawning. “I heard that baby first,” he began. “I think I should stay up and talk about it some more.”
    “And I think you should go to bed,” his mother said.
    “I might ’member something I thought I forgot,” Bobby said slyly.
    “Then you think about it and tell us in the morning. Scoot!” Mr. Belden ordered.
    Stalling for time, Bobby said good night to each person in the room, then asked, “Can I say night to the baby?”
    “May I,” Mart corrected. Words were Mart’s love.
    “Sure, you, too,” said Bobby with a wave of his arm.
    Mr. Belden threw up his hands, and one by one, the group tiptoed into the guest room for a last peek at the sleeping infant.
    Who are you? Trixie asked him silently. How long will we he able to keep you?
    Once the Bob-Whites were comfortably seated on the front porch, Trixie called the meeting to order. Although the rain had stopped, only a few stars managed to elude the cloud blanket. It was pleasantly dark. Grass and flowers smelled clean and fresh. Trixie felt full of energy, as though all the nervous crankiness of the day had been washed away.
    Brian was the first to speak. “Moms already has her hands full. I think we owe it to her to arrange some kind of schedule, in case the baby is here through tomorrow. To be on the safe side, he should be fed every four hours, and that’s only part of his care.”
    “An exemplary diet schedule” was Mart’s comment. At fifteen, growing fast, he was always hungry.
    “I’ll share the work,” said Honey, and Di was quick to agree.
    “I, for one, could really use the experience of caring for an infant,” Brian put in. “Besides...”
    “You feel, if not exactly paternal, at least fraternal,” Mart finished for him.
    “Right,” Brian said.
    “Me, too,” Mart admitted.
    “If this is a learning experience, I can use it, too,” Jim said.
    “Good!” Trixie said. “Then it’s unanimous to share the baby’s care?”
    “Yes!” was the response of the Bob-Whites. Part of the club’s function was to help people in need of help, and there couldn’t be anyone more helpless than a tiny baby.
    “Until we know who he is, he kind of belongs to us,” Di mused. “Shouldn’t he have a name? We can’t keep calling that baby ‘he’ and ‘it.’ ”
    “Such an appellation is awkward,” Mart agreed.
    “If we didn’t already have a Bobby, we could name him Bob White,” Honey said.
    “We don’t have a Clancy,” Mart said impishly.
    “Nobody names a three-month-old baby Clancy!” Di exclaimed.
    I should hope not,” Mart told her. “Most of the Clancys I know were named months earlier than that.”
    “What about Moses?” Jim asked.
    The whole group hooted.
    “Moses was hidden in a basket and pulled out of the Nile River,” Jim argued. “This little guy was pulled out of Reddy’s doghouse in the rain.”
    “We could call him Mo,” suggested Honey. Di, who enjoyed being a hostess, spoke up next. “Let’s have a welcoming party for Moses Bob-White, with a naming ceremony. We could have arks for favors!”
    “Wrong patriarch—that was Noah,” Mart teased. “But you’re on the right track. We could decorate with bulrushes.”
    “I never did find out what a bulrush was,” Di said plaintively.
    “Never mind,” Mart said. “You have black hair and violet eyes.”
    The rest of the group didn’t see what that had to do with bulrushes, but Di seemed satisfied.
    “All in favor of Moses Bob-White?” Trixie inquired.
    The vote was unanimous again, and Brian pointed out that it was almost ten o’clock.
    “So?” Honey asked.
    “Six, ten, two, six, ten, two,” Brian said. “That’s Mo’s schedule.”
    “Dibs on feeding Mo before Jim takes us home,” Di called.
    “I’ll take two,” Brian offered. “I’ll want to check to see if he has a cold.”
    “Six for me,” Mart said. “I’m certain our sister will still be somnolent.”
    “Whatever that is, I won’t be,” retorted Trixie. “You’ll need help. Make that six for us.”
    Later that night, Trixie lay awake for some time, racking her