Mr. Jerry had just driven into the garage when the delinquent Mary Rose slipped in at the back gate.
"Hullo, Mary Rose," he called cheerily.
"I've come to pay George Washington's board," importantly. "I'm ashamed I'm late but I forgot. I'm not used to business," she apologized, mortification dyeing her cheeks pink.
"That's all right. But if it's board you're going to pay we'd better go in and see my Aunt Mary."
His Aunt Mary looked mildly surprised when Mary Rose announced that she had come to pay George Washington's board and she was sorry she was late. Aunt Mary pursed her lips in a way that made Mary Rose quake until she remembered that she was earning a lot of money and it really didn't matter if the board was more than fifty cents. And George Washington did have an awful appetite.
Mr. Jerry's Aunt Mary was saying so. "That cat is perfectly hollow. It's amazing the milk he drinks. He has been here a little over a week, Mary Rose," again mortification painted Mary Rose's cheeks, "and in that time he has caught five mice. It is impossible to estimate the damage that five mice would have done if they hadn't been caught so I figure that George Washington has earned his own board."
"Why, George Washington!" Mary Rose could scarcely grasp this but when she did she caught the cat to her in a rapturous hug. "Isn't he the very smartest cat? Why, he's self-supporting, isn't he?" And she hugged him again. "If he keeps on earning his board I can send for Solomon. I don't suppose you would want to board a dog, too? I think I'd almost feel as if I were in Heaven to have my animal friends with me again."
"What kind of dog is Solomon?" Mr. Jerry asked carelessly. "I've been thinking of buying a dog but perhaps I could rent old Sol."
"Mr. Jerry! I'd be glad to let you have him for his board. He's splendid, a real fox terrier, and that clever. He can do lots of tricks. You couldn't help but love him. He's so affectionate and friendly."
"It was a fox terrier that I thought of buying. Then we can consider that settled, Mary Rose. You send for Sol as soon as you please and I'll board him for the use of him. I think he would look well on the front seat of the car."
Mary Rose had jumped to her feet and, with George Washington still in her arms, she threw herself on Mr. Jerry in a perfect spasm of delighted gratitude that brought tears to the eyes of both of them for George Washington was not accustomed to being squeezed between a young man and a little girl.
"What a—what a splendid man you are!" cried Mary Rose. "You're like King Arthur and Robin Hood, always succoring the friendless though I'm not friendless when I have you and your Aunt Mary and all the people over there." She nodded across at the white face of the Washington.
"All the people?" questioned Mr. Jerry. He had heard of some of them who did not act friendly.
"Well, perhaps not all—yet," amended Mary Rose. "I do like to be friends with people, Mr. Jerry. It gives you such a comfortable feeling inside. When you're not friends it's just as if you had the stomachache and the headache at the same time."
Mr. Jerry's Aunt Mary brought in some cookies and three glasses of ginger ale, all sparkling and frosty.
"It's a party," beamed Mary Rose. "I've always thought the world was full of nice people and now I know it. Aunt Kate's forever telling me that I'm too little to know the good from the bad but I tell her there isn't any bad, that the Lord wouldn't waste His time and dust, and anyway I have the right kind of an eye. I showed that when I made friends with you and Mr. Jerry."
When she left she hesitated at the gate. "Would it be a bother if I brought a friend over to see George Washington?" she ventured. "I'd like Miss Thorley to meet him and then perhaps she'd paint his picture."
"I should think she would," promptly agreed Mr. Jerry. "He's a cat who deserves to have his portrait painted. Bring over any friends you wish, Mary Rose," hospitably, "but let me know first so George Washington will be home. Sometimes I take him out with me," gravely.
Mary Rose gazed at him with adoration. "I don't believe I could have found a better boarding place for him, not if I had searched all Waloo. I'll let you know, Mr. Jerry, just as soon as I know myself."
But before Mary Rose could write the letter that would tell Jimmie Bronson that she was now financially able to maintain her animal friends she had a big surprise.
The day had been warm and sultry, the sort that makes every nerve disagreeably alive and brings to the surface all the unpleasant little traits that in cooler weather one can keep hidden.
"Old General Humidity hasn't shirked his job a minute to-day," Bob Strahan told Miss Carter as they left the car and walked up the block to the Washington together.
In front of them sauntered a boy with a dog at his heels. The boy was a sturdy young fellow of perhaps fourteen, very shabby as to clothes but very dauntless as to manner. The dog was a fox terrier with one black spot over his left eye like a patch. Bob Strahan whistled and snapped his fingers at him.
"I've always meant to have a fox terrier some day," he told Miss Carter. "They're so intelligent."
But this particular fox terrier, while he wagged his tail and looked around to see who whistled, kept close to the heels of the boy who looked carefully at the houses as if in search of one. When he came to the Washington he stood and stared up at the long brick wall with its many windows peering so curiously down at him, much as Mary Rose had stared less than a month before.
"Well, young man," Bob Strahan said pleasantly, "is there anyone here you wish to see?"
"Gee," exclaimed the boy with a fervor that seemed to come from his dusty heels, "I hadn't any idea it would be such a big place!"
"It isn't a cottage," agreed Bob Strahan amiably, "nor yet a bungalow. But a roof has to be some size to cover a couple of dozen families. What particular family are you interested in, may I ask?" He stooped to pat the black-eyed fox terrier as it sniffed his ankles. "Some dog!" he told the boy.
Down the street came Mary Rose and Miss Thorley. Mary Rose had been to the bakery for rolls for supper and had met Miss Thorley on the corner. The little group by the steps of the Washington could hear her voice before they saw her and the boy swung around and listened.
"I used to think that if I wasn't a human being, made in the image of God, I'd like to be the milkman's horse in Mifflin," he heard Mary Rose say and he chuckled.
"Why, Mary Rose?" laughed Miss Thorley.
"Because it was so friendly to go from house to house every morning with milk for the babies and cream for the coffee. Everyone in Mifflin was a friend to old Whiteface. Why—why!" she broke her story short to stand still and stare at the boy and the dog, who were both staring at her. The boy's face was one broad grin and the dog's tail was wagging frantically. "Why, Solomon Crocker! It's never you! Oh, Solomon!" as he darted to her. "I've missed you more than tongue could tell. It seems a hundred thousand years since we were together. Jimmie Bronson, however did you know that I'd made arrangements for Solomon to come to Waloo?"
"I didn't know but I wanted to leave Mifflin and I couldn't let old Sol stay alone. You know Aunt Nora died just after you left and there wasn't any home for me any more. I wanted to see the world so I thought I'd bring the pup and if you didn't want him I'd be glad to keep him. He's a dandy dog and he's valuable. He's helped to more than pay our way." He jingled the contents of his pocket so that they could hear how Solomon had helped.
"How did he do that, Jimmie? I'm sorry about your Aunt Nora but now you have one more friend in Heaven and you've lots left on earth. He's got heaps of friends right here, hasn't he?" She looked at Bob Strahan and the two girls for confirmation of her words. "We're all friends in Waloo. But how did Solomon help you to earn your way?"
Jimmie laughed sheepishly. "I've taught him a lot of new tricks. He's a smart dog and learned like lightning. Folks were glad to see him perform. I never asked for pay but they always gave me something. I could have sold him half a dozen times for big money but he's your dog, Mary Rose, so I brought him right along."
"Show us his new tricks," begged Mary Rose. "Show them to us this minute."
So Miss Thorley and Miss Carter, with Mary Rose between them, and Bob Strahan sat down on the broad front steps and watched Jimmie Bronson put Solomon through his repertoire. Mrs. Schuneman and Lottie joined them and from their windows Mrs. Bracken and Mrs. Willoughby watched the performance. Solomon really was a clever dog and Jimmie had been an excellent teacher so that the entertainment was very creditable. They were all so interested in it that they never saw an addition to their number until a harsh strident voice sounded beside them. It made Mary Rose jump and Mrs. Bracken and Mrs. Willoughby suddenly left their windows.
"Mein lieber Gott!" Mrs. Schuneman rose involuntarily and heavily to her feet. "It's Mr. Wells!"
"What's this? What's this?" Lightning flashed from Mr. Wells' eyes and thunder rumbled in his voice. No wonder everyone was startled. "Dogs aren't allowed here. Where's Donovan? He shouldn't allow such a nuisance. Run along, boy, and take your dog with you. You aren't allowed here!"
"It isn't his dog." Mary Rose ran in front of him. "It's my dog and he's come all the way from Mifflin. I wish you'd been here earlier so you could see how smart he is," timidly. "He knows such a lot of funny tricks. Jimmie, will you have him do that one—"
"Your dog!" interrupted Mr. Wells, with a snort, and his fiery eyes seemed to bore a hole right through Mary Rose, who was trying desperately to remember that she had the right kind of eye and could see nothing but good in the cross old man in front of her. "You know very well that dogs are not allowed in this house. Take him away, boy, and don't let me see either of you again."
"Oh!" Mary Rose's heart was full of indignation. So were her eyes. She was too hurt to be afraid. "Aren't you ashamed of yourself, a great big man like you to talk that way to a poor little dog who has come all the way from Mifflin expecting to find friends here? He's my dog and—"
But Mr. Wells would not let her finish. "You can't keep him here," he snarled. He was furious at being spoken to in such a fashion by a janitor's child and before a group of young people who did their best to look serious. "You haven't any business here yourself. Children and dogs are forbidden in this building."
Mrs. Donovan had come to the basement window just in time to hear this angry outburst and she called hastily: "Mary Rose! Mary Rose!"
Mary Rose never heard her. "Why are you always picking at me?" she demanded of Mr. Wells. "I'm only a little girl and you're a big man but never once since I came to Waloo have you looked as if you wanted to be friends with me. I don't mean to be impudent but you—you do make it very hard for me to like you." Her lip quivered and she turned quickly and hid her face against Miss Thorley's white skirt.
Miss Thorley's arm went around her and a thrill of emotion rarely intense ran over the older girl. When she spoke her voice was strange even to herself:
"Really, Mr. Wells, this is all very unnecessary. You have not been annoyed by Mary Rose or her pets. I think you can trust to her and to the Donovans—"
"Oh, you can!" Mary Rose's face came out again and she was so eager to assure him that he could that she forgot how rude it is to interrupt. "You shan't ever see Solomon unless you look out of one of the windows in the white-faced wall. He's going to live with Mr. Jerry. I've made all the arrangements. I never meant you to be bothered with him. But I do wish you'd like him. He's a very friendly dog," wistfully. "He'd like you to like him."
Mr. Wells looked at the friendly dog who wanted to be liked, and at Mary Rose, before his eyes swept the older group. There was not the faintest trace of a smile on the faces of Miss Thorley and Miss Carter, but there was more than a trace on the countenance of Bob Strahan.
"I don't like dogs!" the grin made him say with a snap. "I won't have one here!" And he went up the steps and slammed the screen door behind him.
"Mercy, mercy!" feebly murmured Mr. Strahan. "You might think he owned the whole works. My rent comes due every month, just as his does."
At her window Aunt Kate wrung her hands and thought sadly how comfortable they were in the basement of the Washington. Mr. Wells would never rest now until he had Larry discharged. She knew he wouldn't. He would never overlook the fact that Mary Rose had talked back to him on the very steps of the Washington. She could not blame Mary Rose, the child had had provocation enough, goodness knows, but she wished—she wished—Oh, how fervently she wished that Mr. Wells had never been born!
Mary Rose looked sadly after the retreating figure which looked as friendly and unbending as a poker.
"He won't ever forget I called him a crosspatch," she said sadly and she blushed.
"What!" There was an astonished chorus. How had she dared? It did not sound like Mary Rose.
"I did!" the color in her cheeks deepened painfully. "I never meant to but the words were in my mind and so they slipped out of my mouth. Come on, Jimmie, we'll take Solomon over to Mr. Jerry's. He'll be glad to see him. He's a human being."
"I think I'll go, too," suggested Bob Strahan who scented a story. "Have you seen George Washington, the self-supporting cat?" he asked Miss Thorley and Miss Carter.
"All of you come," begged Mary Rose, glowing happily again. "Mr. Jerry'd be glad to have you and there's plenty of room in the back yard. I'd like to have you see my cat. Isn't it wonderful that George Washington and Solomon are self-supporting? That's being independent, isn't it, Miss Thorley? Will you come?" she caught her hand and drew her to her feet.
Miss Thorley hesitated. If George Washington had been boarding with anyone but Jerry Longworthy she would have gone at once but Jerry Longworthy was very apt to forget that she preferred work to love. If she went to his back yard he would be sure to think that her coming was an inch and proceed to make an ell out of it. It would be far wiser to stay away. So she shook her head. "Not now, Mary Rose," she said gently. "Some other time."
After a quick glance at her face Mary Rose did not tease but went off with the others. They found Mr. Jerry in the back yard. He looked beyond them as if he found the party too small but as no one followed to complete it he gave his attention to Solomon and pronounced him something of a dog. When Jimmie had put him through his tricks again Mr. Jerry gravely shook hands with both boy and dog.
"You've been a fine teacher," he said to Jimmie. "I congratulate you."
Jimmie's face was as scarlet as the poppies in Mr. Jerry's Aunt Mary's garden. "Oh, go on!" he murmured in delighted embarrassment.
"Just think, they walked all the way from Mifflin!" exclaimed Mary Rose in a voice of awe. "It took an automobile and a train and a taxicab to bring me."
"Well, I didn't have money for an auto nor a train nor a taxi," grinned Jimmie, "so Sol and I walked. Not all the way. Folks gave us a lift now and then."
"Of course they did. You'd be sure to find friends," Mary Rose told him jubilantly. "That's the beautiful part of traveling. You find friends everywhere."
"Sure!" Jimmie winked at Mr. Jerry and Bob Strahan. "I found one friend so glad to see me that he had me arrested."
"Why, Jimmie Bronson!" Mary Rose's eyes were as large as the largest kind of saucers. "What for? Was Solomon arrested, too?" She looked reprovingly at her dog.
Jimmie chuckled. "I told you I had more than one chance to sell the brute," with a loving kick at Solomon. "And one man was so mad when I told him 'nothing doing' that he had me arrested. Said I had stolen the dog from him. You see there's some class to old Sol but there isn't much to me. The judge didn't know which of us was lying until I told him that Sol was a trick dog and would the man who was trying to put one over on me run through his tricks to show they had worked together. The cuss turned green and stammered that he wasn't no animal tamer. The judge gave me a chance and we had a great performance in the courtroom. When it was over the judge said he guessed if I'd had Solomon long enough to teach him so much the man, if he was the owner, should have found him before. He fined the other chap a greenback and gave it to me. We had beefsteak and potatoes for supper instead of going to jail, didn't we, old sport?"
"Good for you!" Mr. Jerry gave him a comradely slap on the shoulder.
Bob Strahan nodded significantly to Miss Carter. "Didn't I say I'd get a story out of this?" he whispered.
"What are you going to do now, Jimmie?" asked Mary Rose. "You aren't going back to Mifflin?"
No, Jimmie wasn't going back to Mifflin. He thought, rather vaguely, he'd stay in Waloo and see the world. There must be something there for a boy to do if he were strong and willing.
"Oh, there is! Isn't there?" Mary Rose looked appealingly from Mr. Jerry to Bob Strahan.
"Sure, there is," Mr. Jerry told her heartily. He asked for further particulars. Just what would Jimmie like to do? Had he any plans?
Jimmie hadn't any plans just at present beyond food and shelter but in ten years or so he hoped to be an electrician. Of course, that couldn't be until he was a man. In the meantime he'd take anything and if he could get a job that would let him go to school he'd be about the happiest kid in the world.
"You can get that kind of job," Bob Strahan told him easily. "I'll write a little story about your trip and your arrest for theGazetteand I'll bet you'll have a lot of jobs offered you."
"And until you do you can stay here. There's a little room up there," Mr. Jerry nodded toward his attic, "that would just about fit a boy of your size. Do you know anything about autos? Have you ever met a lawn mower? I guess I can find work for you until you get a regular job."
Every freckle on Jimmie's freckled face glowed gratefully. Mary Rose jumped up and down.
"Mr. Jerry!" she began in a choked voice. She ran to him and hid her face against his hand. "First you took my cat," she gasped chokingly, "and then you took my dog and now my friend from Mifflin. I—I don't believe a friendlier man ever lived!"
"Mary Rose!" It was Aunt Kate's voice from the back door of the Washington. "Bring your friend in to supper." Aunt Kate knew that, under the circumstances, she had no business to ask a boy into the house but she felt desperately that now it did not matter what she did and it would please Mary Rose.
"Well, Mary Rose," Bob Strahan pulled her hair as they trooped back to the Washington, leaving Solomon jumping frantically at Mr. Jerry's snapping fingers, "are you happy now?"
Mary Rose's face clouded. "Half of me's happy and half of me isn't," she confessed in a low voice. "It makes me mad not to be friends with everybody and I can't honestly feel that Mr. Wells and I are friends."
Mr. Bracken found one morning, when he had reached his office, that he had forgotten some important papers. He went home at noon to get them. He let himself into the apartment and walked directly into the living-room. He stopped with an exclamation of surprise for on the broad davenport was a little girl fast asleep. One of her arms was thrown protectingly about a brass cage in which a bird swung lazily.
"Well, upon my word!" muttered Mr. Bracken. He looked about to be sure he was in the right apartment. He had been away from home and had not met Mary Rose.
The words, low as they were uttered, reached Mary Rose's ear and she opened her eyes. When she saw a tall man staring somewhat frowningly at her she sat up suddenly.
"I—I hope you're Mr. Bracken, Mrs. Bracken's husband?" she said. There was a tremble in her voice as she slipped from the davenport and bobbed a curtsy. There was a shake in her knees, also. Suppose this strange man should be a burglar? The thought was enough to make the voice and knees of any little girl tremble and shake. But the strange man nodded curtly and Mary Rose laughed tremulously. "I thought perhaps you were a burglar," she confessed at once. "I never knew a real burglar but I see now you don't look a bit like one. If I hadn't been so sleepy I'd have seen it at once for I've the right kind of an eye, the kind that can see the good in people. I think you have, too, because your eyes are just the same color my daddy's were and he had the right kind. Gracious! I should just think he had!"
"Never mind about eyes," Mr. Bracken said impatiently. "What are you doing here?"
"I'll tell you," she blushed. "I came up to wash the dishes, as I do every morning for Mrs. Bracken, and I left the key on the outside and the wind slammed the door shut. I couldn't open it. I thought I'd have to wait until Mrs. Bracken came home to let me out. I didn't dare make a noise for fear I'd disturb Mr. Wells. I must have gone to sleep for I never heard you come in. I live in the cellar with my Aunt Kate and Uncle Larry. At first I felt like a green cucumber pickle because in Mifflin, where I used to live, there wasn't anything in our cellar but a swinging shelf for pickles and jellies and a person couldn't ever feel like a glass of plum jelly, could they? So I felt like a cucumber pickle but now I don't mind it at all. I love to live in the cellar. There's everything in getting used to things, isn't there? I like it here now pretty well for I've lots of friends. Mrs. Schuneman and Germania and Mrs. Johnson, the grandma one. We go to the park every day and feed her pet squirrel. The Lord keeps it there because she can't have any pets but canary birds in houses like this. There's a law against it, Uncle Larry said. And there's Miss Thorley, the enchanted princess, who's painting my picture for Mr. Bingham Henderson's jam to tell people how good it is. She gave me some once, apricot. We only had strawberry and raspberry and plum and grape and apple butter in Mifflin. I used to stir the apple butter for Lena. You have to stir it all the time or it burns. It makes your arm awful tired but it's good for the muscle. Feel mine!" She clenched her small arm and held it out so that Mr. Bracken could feel her muscles.
He murmured: "I'll be darned!" in a dazed sort of a way as he felt her muscle, and Mary Rose went on sociably.
"And there's Mrs. Bracken. She said I washed her dishes better than a full-sized girl. And now there's you. Have you had any lunch?" she demanded suddenly. "Shall I get you some?" she wanted to know when he had admitted that he hadn't had anything to eat since breakfast. "Mrs. Bracken wouldn't like it if I let you go away hungry. It won't take a minute. You just keep an eye on Jenny Lind." And she put Jenny Lind on the table at his elbow before she flew to the kitchen.
Mr. Bracken stood and stared at Jenny Lind and then at the door through which Mary Rose had disappeared. "Well, I'll be darned!" he said again. He went to his desk and found his important papers. He did not intend to stay for lunch but when Mary Rose flew back to demand hurriedly whether he liked his eggs fried or boiled he told her boiled.
A postponed meeting brought Mrs. Bracken home that day several hours before she had planned. She stopped on the threshold in astonishment when she heard voices and laughter in the rear of her apartment. She hurried back with pursed lips and frowning face for both laugh and voice had sounded young. If Mary Rose were making free with her things she would give Mary Rose a good big piece of her mind and then she would present Mrs. Donovan with an equal portion.
She went through the dining-room and into the kitchen to find Joseph Bracken—Joseph Bracken—sitting at the kitchen table eating boiled eggs and drinking tea. Mary Rose was perched on a chair across from him and was telling him of Mifflin. Jenny Lind's cage was between them.
"Mary Rose was perched on a chair across from him and was telling him of Mifflin.""Mary Rose was perched on a chair across from him and was telling him of Mifflin."
"Mary Rose was perched on a chair across from him and was telling him of Mifflin.""Mary Rose was perched on a chair across from him and was telling him of Mifflin."
"Why—why," gasped Mrs. Bracken. She could not say another word. She forgot all about the big piece of her mind that she was going to give Mary Rose and stood there staring with bulging eyes.
Mary Rose jumped to the floor. "Here's Mrs. Bracken!" she cried in delight. "Isn't it a pity we didn't know she was coming? I could just as well have boiled another egg. But there's plenty of tea. It's like a party, isn't it? Except that we haven't any birthday candles. In Mifflin I always had candles on my birthday cake because daddy said a birthday should be like a candle, a light to guide you into the new year. Shall I boil an egg for you, Mrs. Bracken?"
Mrs. Bracken sat down suddenly in the chair Mary Rose had vacated and murmured helplessly: "Well, upon my word!"
"That's what I said," smiled Mr. Bracken, which wasn't exactly true although the words he had used meant the same thing, "when I came home and found a girl and a bird on the davenport."
"I locked myself in," Mary Rose explained with a shamed face. "I was careless and left the key on the outside. Mr. Bracken should have scolded me but he didn't. We've been the best friends and had the nicest time together and now it's going to be nicer because you're here."
She beamed on first one and then the other as she bustled about finding a plate and a knife and fork, making the toast that Mrs. Bracken thought she would prefer to bread and all the time talking in a friendly fashion. She never doubted that what interested her would interest others.
At first Mrs. Bracken regarded her helplessly, as Mr. Bracken had done, but gradually the look of irritation disappeared and at last a smile took its place. It was strange to share a lunch of boiled eggs and tea on the kitchen table with Joseph Bracken. She had not done that since they were first married and were moving into their first home. She hadn't thought of it for years but now it was oddly pleasant to remember the little details of a time before she had been absorbed by clubs and he by business. Neither she nor Mr. Bracken had much to say but Mary Rose talked enough for three. She waited on them with a solicitude that forced them to eat and when they had finished she sent them into the other room.
"I'll wash up. It won't take me a minute."
So, because she told them to, Mr. and Mrs. Bracken drifted into the other room and left her alone with Jenny Lind. Mr. Bracken did not take his hat and mutter that he would be back for dinner. He walked over to the window and stood looking down the street. At last he turned around and looked at his wife who was sitting on the davenport as if she were tired.
"Elsie," he said abruptly, "what ever became of your niece?"
She looked up in surprise. "You mean Harriet White? She's living with the Norrises in Prairieville."
"Wouldn't you like to have her here?" he asked suddenly. "It doesn't seem just right—decent—to let strangers look after your own relations."
Her eyes opened wider. He had never seemed to think whether it was decent or not until now. "But we can't have her here. That was the trouble after her mother died. Children aren't allowed in the house and we didn't want to move."
"How old is she?"
"Thirteen or fourteen. I'm not just sure which."
"A girl of thirteen isn't a child. Send for her, Elsie, and if anyone objects, we can move. But I guess a tenant means something to a landlord and there won't be any objections. We need her, Elsie, as much as she needs us. We need someone young with us. That kid," he nodded toward the kitchen where Mary Rose was lustily singing the many verses of "Where Have You Been, Billy Boy?" "has made me realize what we are missing. Why she fussed around me as if—as if," he colored slightly, "as if I were her father. No, it isn't anything new. I've been thinking for some time that we aren't getting all we should out of life. You give your time and strength to clubs and I give mine to business and what does it amount to? What are we working for? Abstract people aren't the same as your own flesh and blood. What we need is something to bring us together and if Hattie White is anything like that kid she'll keep us good and busy."
Mrs. Bracken slipped across the room and put her hand on his arm. "I'll be glad to send for her, Joe. I haven't felt just right to leave her with the Whites but I thought you didn't want her and I told myself that my first duty was to you. I'll write today. No, I'll go for her, if you don't mind."
"That's a good girl." His arm slipped around her waist.
Out in the kitchen Mary Rose brought her song to an abrupt close. She thrust her head in the doorway. "I'm all through. Didn't I say it wouldn't take a jiffy? It's been very pleasant but Aunt Kate'll be wondering where I am and so will Grandma Johnson. Good-by."
"Good-by," they chorused. "Come again," they added, as if they couldn't help but speak the hospitable words.
"I shall," Mary Rose called back. "Sure, I'll come again."
"And Mr. Jerry said that if you weren't so much of an angel you'd be a splendid artist or if you weren't so much of an artist you'd be a splendid angel. It sounds queer the way I say it but I know he meant it for a compliment." Mary Rose and Jenny Lind were posing for the jam poster. It was almost finished and Mary Rose was sinfully proud of it.
Miss Thorley frowned and refused to say what she thought of Mr. Jerry's compliment. Mary Rose frowned, also.
"You don't like Mr. Jerry very much, do you?" she ventured to ask.
"I'm too busy to know whether I do or not." Miss Thorley half closed her eyes and looked at Mary Rose in the funny way she did when she was painting. "My work takes all of my time. Chin up, Mary Rose."
"Yes'm." Mary Rose tilted her chin a little higher. "You aren't under any obligation to think of him, of course, but if your cat was boarding with him and he had borrowed your dog you'd just have to keep him in your mind and heart. And he's worth thinking of. He's a very fine young man. Everyone says so. Jimmie adores him and he hasn't known him a week. You've known him lots longer than that, haven't you?" She spoke as if she could not understand how Jimmie could be so much more clever. It must be on account of the spell that old Independence had put upon Miss Thorley. There couldn't be any other reason for not liking Mr. Jerry. He was so altogether likeable. Mary Rose sighed at life's complications. "I just love Mr. Jerry myself. I can't help it," she went on more slowly. "I wish you did, too," wistfully. "It's much more pleasant when the people you love will love each other. It gives you such a comfortable feeling as if you didn't care if Heaven was so far away. I do think this world would be almost as wonderful as Heaven if everyone would love everyone else."
"There is no doubt of that," Miss Thorley absently agreed with her.
"Then will you try and love my friends?" eagerly. She almost lost her pose in her eagerness. "I'll love yours. Every one! I will! I can because I have a big heart. Did you know that the more you put into a heart the more it will hold? It's the hearts that haven't anyone in them that are so little and hard. I think hearts must be like balloons. You can blow and blow and blow into balloons and there's always room for some more breath."
"Unless they break. Balloons break, Mary Rose, and so do hearts."
Mary Rose looked incredulous. "Mine never did. And anyway I'd rather have my heart break from being too full than get hard because it didn't have anyone in it. I'd like to have the very biggest heart in the whole world!" she cried ambitiously.
"Big enough to hold Mr. Wells? Did you know he was ill, Mary Rose? His Jap came up last night and asked Miss Carter not to play on the piano because Mr. Wells wasn't well and didn't wish to be disturbed." Miss Thorley's lip curled disdainfully.
"Mr. Wells sick?" Mary Rose was much concerned. "What's the matter?"
Miss Thorley shook her head.
"Haven't you been down to ask?" Mary Rose always had been sent to ask in Mifflin.
"Gracious, no! I shouldn't dare. He'd probably bite my head off."
"He couldn't bite your head off if he was sick. It doesn't seem real neighborly, Miss Thorley. And you are neighbors. You live right over his head. I expect he has dyspepsia and that's the reason he looked so—" she hesitated over a word, "unfriendly. Why when Mr. Lewis, he's the postmaster in Mifflin, had dyspepsia Mrs. Lewis didn't dare say her soul was her own. Mr. Lewis couldn't be cross to people when they came for their mail so he saved it all for Mrs. Lewis. That doesn't seem quite fair, does it, for people to be pleasant to outsiders and save their bad temper for their homes?"
"It isn't fair but I rather think it's human."
Mary Rose shook her head. "Sometimes I think that human and disagreeable mean the same thing because people all say the bad things we do are human. Where did we learn them, Miss Thorley? The Lord made us all good because it wouldn't have paid him to make us bad. Where do you suppose Mr. Lewis learned to snap and Mr. Wells to scold and you to frown?"
Miss Thorley certainly did have a frown. It ran right across her pretty forehead when she said: "Bless me! child, how do I know? That's enough for one day." She put the drawing board on the table and stretched herself luxuriously. "Try and be on time tomorrow, Mary Rose, and I think we can finish it."
"Yes'm." Mary Rose stared at the drawing which was a very wonderful thing to her. "Don't you believe Mr. Bingham Henderson 'll be pleased with it? It's a beautiful picture of Jenny Lind."
"It's a beautiful picture of you, if I do say it," laughed the artist.
Mary Rose drew closer until she could whisper into Miss Thorley's ear. "I wish Mr. Jerry could see it."
Miss Thorley rose abruptly and pushed her away. "He can. He'll have lots of opportunity to see it when it is on the back of a magazine. Run along, now. Skip!" She fairly pushed Mary Rose out of the door before she could say anything more about Mr. Jerry. Sometimes it seemed to Mary Rose that Miss Thorley was afraid to hear about Mr. Jerry.
She went down the stairs slowly and hesitated when she came to Mr. Wells' door. She knew she should stop and inquire how he was. It would have been a terrible breach of good manners in Mifflin not to ask after a sick neighbor, but Mr. Wells had not been like any neighbor Mary Rose had ever known. Nevertheless he was a neighbor. She tossed her head and ventured closer to the door. There was no answer when she knocked timidly and she tried again. The door was slightly ajar and when her second knock brought no response she ventured to push it open an inch. Mr. Wells might be all alone and need someone. She would just slip in and see. If he didn't she could slip out again.
There was a chilly deserted feeling in the hall that made Mary Rose shiver. She hurried through softly as if in the presence of something that oppressed her. When she reached the door of the living-room she stopped and looked across into the amazed eyes of Mr. Wells, who was lying on the broad couch.
"Oh!" Mary Rose refused to be frightened away by his scowl. "I'm so glad you're able to be up. You are better, aren't you? I was worried when Miss Thorley said you were sick and I just stopped to inquire. In Mifflin when anyone was sick we always went with chicken broth or cup custard or a new magazine. Why, when Lily Thompson had tonsilitis she had eleven different things sent in one day. I helped her eat the eating ones."
"How did you get in?" growled Mr. Wells for all the world like the Big Bear in the story of Goldilocks. Mary Rose had to think what a splendid Big Bear he would make.
"The door was open. I knocked but no one came. I was afraid you might want something. Has your Japanese gentleman gone to the drug store? Isn't it lonely for you all by yourself? I was going to ask Aunt Kate to make you some beef tea but perhaps you'd rather have Jenny Lind stay with you. She's splendid company and I'd be glad to loan her to you." She crossed the room to put the cage down beside Mr. Wells. Jenny Lind began to sing immediately as if to show Mr. Wells what splendid company she could be.
Mr. Wells raised himself on his elbow and shook a threatening fist at the canary.
"Take that damn bird away!" he shouted. His face was red and Mary Rose was sure she could see flames darting from his eyes.
"Yes, sir! Yes, sir!" She snatched Jenny Lind at once. "I s-suppose she is too noisy for you yet. Mrs. Mason didn't like her when she had the nerves. But you shouldn't be alone. It's bad for you. I'm sure you need friendly company. Oh, I know the very thing!" And before the astonished and indignant invalid could say a word she had dashed out of the room.
He could hear her stumble in the hall but he did not hear her exclaim hurriedly when a door across the way opened: "Oh, Mrs. Rawson, will you take Jenny Lind for a minute? I'll be right back for her." She pushed the hook of the cage into the hands of the startled Mrs. Rawson and flew down the stairs.
She was back in an incredibly short time with a small glass globe that she carried very carefully. Her face shone as she tiptoed in and placed it on the table beside the invalid.
"There!" she said proudly. "There! The perfect pets for the sickroom. When you said Jenny Lind was too disturbing I remembered that Mr. Jerry's Aunt Mary had these two little goldfish. Wasn't it lucky? She was glad to loan them to you and hopes you'll find them pleasant friends. They won't be any care at all. I'll come up every day and feed them if you don't feel well enough. I'd like to. Aren't they beautiful? Do you suppose all the fish in Heaven are like that, all gold and glisteny? Won't you just love to watch them? They can't sing or make any noise to annoy you. They'll be splendid company."
"God bless my soul!" murmured Mr. Wells helplessly, when he could find breath to murmur anything. He stared at her as if he really had never seen her before.
An exclamation, like the pop of a gun, made them look at the doorway where Sako was staring at them as if he could not believe his eyes.
"Sako!" shouted Mr. Wells, angrily. "Why did you leave the door open when you went out?"
"Wasn't it lucky he did?" asked Mary Rose, standing before him and rocking on her heels and toes as she often did when she was pleased. "I might never have come in, if he hadn't. If there's anything I can do for you, Mr. Wells, any time, don't you hesitate to ask me. Just send the Japanese gentleman right down. I live in the cellar, I mean the basement, with Aunt Kate and Uncle Larry and we'll all be only too glad to do anything to help you get well. It's horrid to be sick. You look better, I think," critically, and indeed he was not at all pale how. He had so much color in his face that he was almost purple. "I must go now and get Jenny Lind. I left her with Mrs. Rawson. I expect she thought I was crazy," with a giggle as she remembered Mrs. Rawson's amazed face.
"I'll bet she did!" Mr. Wells stared after her as if he, too, thought Mary Rose was crazy. She turned in the doorway to wave her hand to him and he watched her out of sight. Then he looked at the goldfish. He had half a mind to tell Sako to throw them out. What did he want with a couple of damned goldfish? The child was a nuisance, an unmitigated nuisance. Children always were. That was why he lived in the Washington where they were forbidden. He would have to ask the agents what they meant by letting the place be overrun with children when there was a clause in every lease forbidding it. Mary Rose might be a friendly little soul, she might mean well, but she was an unmitigated nuisance. The Lord only knew what she would do next if she remained in the building. And she had dared to talk back to him in front of people. No, he would see that the lease was lived up to. It was his right. If he demanded protection against Mary Rose, an impudent interfering chit, he fumed, the agents would have to protect him.
"Sako!" he called sharply. "Take these damned goldfish down to the Donovans. And tell Donovan to keep his niece at home. I won't have her here!"
Through Bob Strahan, Jimmie obtained a paper route. Mr. Jerry's Aunt Mary insisted that was work enough for him at present.
"A growing boy has to have plenty of time to eat and sleep," she said, "and no one is using that attic bedroom."
"You can earn your board taking care of the lawn and lending a hand with the car. The paper route 'll stand you in for clothes and spending money," suggested Mr. Jerry. "Might as well take it easy while you can."
"He's a prince, that's what he is!" Jimmie told Mary Rose somewhat chokingly, when she came over to see how George Washington and Solomon and Jimmie were doing. "I never knew such a man."
"Didn't you?" Mary Rose was surprised. "Mr. Jerry is splendid but there are lots and lots of splendid people in the world, Jimmie Bronson."
"Oh, are there!" snorted Jimmie. "Well, I haven't seen so many of them, and that's straight. Judging from what I saw and heard that first day I was in Waloo, you've run across at least one of the other sort, too."
Mary Rose blushed. Her inability to make friends with Mr. Wells annoyed her. "He's got dyspepsia," she said, as if that were an excuse. "To tell you the truth, Jimmie Bronson, when I first came here I nearly died. I had an awful time remembering that daddy said when there were so many people in the world there were friends for everybody. The people were so different and it was so funny to have them live up and down instead of side by side. At first I thought I'd never get used to it but I did. And I have lots of friends here now. But Waloo isn't Mifflin." And she sighed because it wasn't.
"Mifflin!" jeered Jimmie. "Mifflin! You can be mighty good and glad it isn't. I don't know where you got your idea of Mifflin, Mary Rose, for it's about the deadest one-horse town I ever ran across. And the people. Huh! A collection of boneheads."
"Why, Jimmie Bronson!" gasped Mary Rose. "Mifflin's the friendliest town—"
"Friendly!" Jimmie elevated his nose at the word. "Prying, interfering, gossiping! That's what it is. I guess I know. You're all wrong, Mary Rose, all wrong. If you should go back you'd see. You're nothing but a kid. You don't know. But take it from me you've got entirely the wrong idea of your native town. If Mifflin was what you think it was do you imagine Solomon and I would have left? No, siree! We'd have stayed and been part of the happy crowd. But it isn't. Honest! It's dead and narrow and one-horse and the people are boneheads."
Mary Rose could not believe it. She stared at him and her lip quivered.
"Jimmie," she said at last and her voice was very low and shaky, "is that what you want me to think of Mifflin? It's always been a wonderful place to me. You see I was born there and no other city, no matter how grand it is, can be my birthplace. It doesn't seem as if I could be all wrong about it. And the people! Daddy always said people's hearts were friendly and in Mifflin their faces were friendly, too. Yes, they were, Jimmie Bronson, when I lived there. Perhaps they have changed. It's a long time since I left."
Jimmie gave a whoop. "Long time! It isn't two months. And it would take more than sixty days to put that sour look on old Mr. Mallow's face. He nearly ate me up alive when I asked for a job after Aunt Nora died. No, Mary Rose, you're wrong, all wrong, about Mifflin. There isn't any place in this whole world that's like what you think that old burg is."
"Isn't there, Jimmie?" Mary Rose was very troubled. "Is that what I'm really to believe?"
There was a quiver in her voice that made James Bronson turn and look at her. He flushed all over his freckled face, to the very roots of his red hair. He even put out his tanned hand and patted Mary Rose's arm. "No, Mary Rose," he said slowly. "I guess you're right. You're always looking for friends and so you'll find them. You keep on being a silly simp and thinking of Mifflin as the new Jerusalem and perhaps it'll grow into one."
"It would if everyone thought it would," Mary Rose insisted and the troubled look slipped away from her face. "If people feel friendly they'll find friends."
"And she believes it," Jimmie told Mr. Jerry when they were cleaning the car together that evening. "Gosh, aren't girl kids queer! I couldn't tell her the truth but I guess I know Mifflin better than she does."
"I'm glad you didn't tell her the truth, Jim." Mr. Jerry lighted his pipe and gave Jimmie the hose. "She'll learn soon enough."
"Of course she will," agreed Jimmie. "She's just got to find out that folks aren't going up and down the streets holding out the glad hand. That's what I say, Mr. Jerry, if people feel so friendly inside why don't they show it outside? Gee whiz!" he stopped to squeeze the water out of the big sponge. "Wouldn't it be a great old world if they did, if folks were what Mary Rose thinks they are?"
"It would. And as every little bit added to what there is makes a little bit more you could help the good time along by feeling a bit more friendly to the world yourself, James," advised Mr. Jerry, stepping off to look at the car. "Mary Rose is right when she says that smiles are just as catching as frowns. Take it from me that it never makes a bad thing any worse by thinking that it is better than it is."
Jimmie Bronson's opinion of Mifflin bothered Mary Rose and she discussed it with everyone. It was not until they had all agreed with her that people and places are what you think they are that she felt comfortable again.
"I knew I was right all the time," she told Aunt Kate.
"If folks were really what she thinks they are, what a snap we'd have," Aunt Kate said to Uncle Larry, after Mary Rose had gone to bed. "To be honest I'll have to admit that the atmosphere's a mite pleasanter here but whether that's because of Mary Rose or because I haven't seen quite so much of the tenants—I never do in summer—I can't say. Seems if she does have the faculty of bringing out the kind side of folks. If I hadn't seen it with my own eyes I never would have believed that Mrs. Rawson would have loaned her machine to Mrs. Matchan or that Mrs. Matchan would condescend to borrow it. Land, the rows they've had over that machine and that piano! Perhaps there is somethin' in thinkin' folks are friendly. What do you say, Larry?"
"What's thinkin' done for old Wells?" asked Uncle Larry. "He's worse'n ever. Take my word for it, Kate, he'll make trouble for us. You might as well begin to pack."