Perly shifted his weight and leaned forward on his elbows to look down on the people. “I’m Perly Dunsmore,” he said. I’ve talked to a good many of you on the telephone. For the others, let me explain. I am, by profession, an auctioneer and environment designer. In addition, I think it would be fair to say that I make a hobby of philanthropy. Altogether, I guess I’m one of Harlowe’s more notice- able businessmen, and as such, the town has approached me to serve as trustee and guardian for these children.
“Now I’ve been pondering the problem of these children. Clearly, as an old bachelor, I cant look after them myself. Now the traditional way to handle a problem in a small New England town it to get all the interested parties together and start thrashing out a solution.
“The exact problem in this instance is that we must provide the best possible homes for these children. Luckily for them, the world today seems to be full of wonderful folks like you who are willing and eager to open their hearts to homeless orphans. So now that we’ve brought you all together, our task boils down to the problem of choosing which of you will take the children.”
There was a long silence. A bare branch rasped back and forth against a windowpane in the wind.
“We have two children this week,” Perly went on.
The group in the church rustled as if a gust of wind had caught briefly in their vocal cords.
As I’ve told most of you, they come with complete adoption papers. After a year, you can go to the court in Concord and finalize the adoption. The children are in perfect health. If you’re worried on that score, rest assured. They are happy healthy rosy white pure-bred all-American children. Their only problem is that they need someone to love. If, within a month, you find anything medically wrong with them, you can bring them back to me and I will, of course, return every penny of the fees.
“Naturally, our social worker will have to come and look into your home a bit before the adoption is finalized. I’m sure that this will present no problem. Under normal circumstances, we’d want to have the home study completed before entrusting the child to you at all. But if we put the children into foster homes now, we’ll only have to move them again into their permanent homes. And that kind of double readjustment for the child seems more cruel than kind. So, since the children are available now, and since most of you are potentially very loving parents or you wouldn’t have come, we’re prepared to let you take the children home just as soon as all the fees are paid.”
Cogswell, sitting diagonally in front of the Moores, watching the fat couple who sat in front of him, leaned his elbows on his knees and covered his face with his hands.
“We have a three-year-old boy today and a newborn baby girl, just ten days old. Born a week ago Thursday.
The people stirred. For the first time, wives turned to their husbands and whispered.
“We’re going to offer the baby girl first. Now I don’t want to commit any indiscretions here, but I know you want to know what kind of genes she has and why she’s up for adoption. It’s the usual story. Her mother’s a lovely little woman only fifteen years old. Her blood was a little too strong, you might say.”
There was a pained silence in the church.
“Nobody’s supposed to know who the father is, but there’s some pretty good speculation it’s a doctor’s son,” Perly went on. A kid who stuck around just long enough to give the valedictory address at his boarding school graduation, then got hustled off to Europe to see the world. This whole affair could have turned out to be a tragedy for the young parents as well as for the child herself. When you adopt her, you’re giving the parents, as well as the child herself, a running chance at life. Believe you me, this child has the very best of genes. I know. And, as for her parents, I’m sure they’ve learned their lesson.
“Now I know you want to see her, but she’s awfully little, so if you could just quietly look and be fairly quick...
Mudgett came through the side door, carrying a car bed. Perly leaned over and picked up the pink bundle as expertly as any practiced father.
The wooden pews creaked as people strained to see, and a few couples pushed their heads close together to whisper.
Perly moved up the center aisle, holding the baby out on one side, then on the other, like an usher with a collection plate. Each couple leaned in toward him and examined the baby. When he came to the Moores, he carefully showed them too. The child was wide awake, staring solemnly up at them from the folds of a pink sleeper, a pacifier stuck in her mouth. She had the deep blue eyes and wrinkled face of any newborn baby and could have belonged to almost anyone.
Perly stood over them until Mim glanced up at him. His eyes were as glittering and impersonal as diamonds.
He returned the child to the car bed and she began to whimper. He leaned over her and she quieted down. Mudgett took the car bed away.
Perly returned to the high pulpit. “God’s ways seem dark,” he said softly, to deprive this perfect child of home and natural kin.” Perly looked out over the people, his eyes gone flat and accusing, as if it were they who had abandoned the child. Finally he leaned back on his heels and smiled. “I’d keep this little beauty for myself, if I could find me a wife,” he said. He shuffled a sheaf of papers before him on the pulpit.
Perly went on, reciting almost in a monotone. “Adoption is a very expensive procedure. In this particular case, we had to pay a good sum to the child’s grandparents to keep for the child’s mother. As it all works out, we can’t let this baby go for under ten thousand dollars.”
There was a gasp from the crowd.
“Now keep in mind,” Perly went on, his voice rising, “this is a white child with the very best racial antecedents. Her mother is part German and part Swedish and her father is English. She promises to be your perfect blond blue-eyed child. If you’ve tried to adopt a white infant elsewhere, you know you have to wait four years or so, and even then, if you have other children, it’s virtually impossible. Independent adoptions like this one are entirely legal, but they’re hard to find—very hard to find—especially if you want your perfect white brand-new baby.”
Perly stopped. He stared at the back of the sanctuary and ran his eyes over every person there, as if he were privately making his choice among them then and there.
“When he finally broke the uncomfortable silence, it was in a hard staccato voice. This baby is available now. Today,” he said. “So unless you want your grandchildren to have slanty eyes or nappy hair, here’s your chance. The fact is that you get what you pay for in this world.”
A couple two pews in front of the Moores exchanged a look. The woman nodded. She was slim and good-looking, but not young.
The man, who had crew-cut salt-and-pepper hair, raised his shoulders slightly and turned back to Dunsmore.
“Now the most economical way to settle the thorny problem of who takes the child is to offer her by the time-honored New England methods of the auction.” Perly banged his fist on the pulpit like a preacher making his point. “So,” he said, “do I hear ten thousand?”
The crowd shifted and made no bids.
“Now I know you feel shy and uncomfortable,” Perly soothed. “It’s an uncomfortable business. But I know you want to be parents or you wouldn’t be here. I wish there were some easier way, both for these children and for you. But remember, even the usual way costs money, with hospitals the way they are. This is a mighty painless way to go home with a brand-new baby. No red tape. No labor pains. No racial problems forever after. So let’s hear some bids. Ten thousand. Do I hear ten thousand for a start?”
This time the woman in front of them looked over at her husband and he raised his hand.
“Ten thousand?” Perly asked, almost as if he were surprised himself.
The man nodded.
“Good. Now do I hear twelve?”