Chapter 7

CHAPTER VI

CHAPTER VI

The stairs were broad and easy, and the girls ran up after Uncle Robert who proceeded to fit a large key in the lock of the big door at the head of the stairs. It was a very fine stable, built many, many years ago, and finished outside and inside with great care. The walls were all sealed or finished with narrow strips of varnished wood. As the door swung open, the three girls stood dumb with amazement. Then “Oh,darlingUncle Robert!” cried Rosanna, and threw herself into his arms.

Uncle Robert looked over her head at Miss Hooker and smiled.

“Glad if you like it, kiddie,” he said. “It is my contribution to little Gwenny. And Doctor Rick told me to tell you that he would send some music for his share.”

“Oh, Helen, Helen, isn’t thatsplendid?” cried Rosanna. “Now we won’t have to have a Victrola! It will be like a real theatre.”

“Just exactly,” said Helen absently. She could not give very much thought to the orchestra when the little theatre claimed her attention.

There was a real stage, and before it a long green tin that the girls knew concealed the footlights.A splendid curtain hung before them, painted in a splashy way with a landscape. To the girls it seemed a rare work of art. Well, the sign painter who had done it was rather proud of himself, so itmusthave been all right.

They walked down the aisle between rows of nice new benches, made with comfortable backs. Mr. Horton left them and went around back of the stage. Immediately there was a sound of ropes squeaking, and the curtain rose as majestically as though it was the curtain of a real theatre. And there was the stage! The same accommodating sign painter had painted a back drop and “flies” as they are called. It was a woodland scene. Trees were the thing that accommodating sign painter could do best, and he had made lots of them, as green as green! He had also painted two canvas covered boxes so that you could scarcely tell them from real rocks.

“Isn’t that pretty nifty looking scenery?” asked Uncle Robert proudly. “It only goes to show that there is a lot of kindness floating around loose in this work-a-day old world. The man who painted all this knew Gwenny’s mother when she was a girl, and when I asked for his bill he said he had done it all Sundays and nights and it was his contribution. He wouldn’t take a cent. Doing it nights is why some of the trees look sort of bluish but I don’t think it hurts, do you?”

“What a nice,niceman!” exclaimed MissHooker. “I should say itdoesn’thurt! To think of his working nights after painting all day long. I should admire those trees if they were a brightpurple!”

“Of course you would,” said Uncle Robert softly. “You are like that.”

Rosanna was hurt. “Why, Uncle Robert! She doesn’t mean that she would just assoonlike a purple tree as a green one. She means how nice it was of the man.”

“Thank you, Rosanna; it is all perfectly clear to me now,” smiled Uncle Robert. “Perfectly clear.” He looked again at Miss Hooker and she smothered a little smile behind her little handkerchief.

They hated to go out of the theatre and see Uncle Robert lock the door. Then they separated. Elise danced off to the house. Miss Hooker and Helen went down the street together, and Uncle Robert and Rosanna cut across the garden. Rosanna’s heart was full. She wantedeverybodyto be happy.

“Uncle Robert,” she said, “sometimes I wish that you were going to get married after awhile. If you were only going to marry Miss Hooker or some young lady just like her, so little and sweet!”

“Well, it is worth considering,” said Uncle Robert. “I wonder now, just for the sake of argument, that is, if Ishoulddo it to accommodate you, I wonder if Miss Hookerwouldmarry me.”

“Oh, no,” said Rosanna. “She wouldn’tthinkof it.”

“Ugh!” said Uncle Robert. It sounded as though someone had knocked all the air out of him.

“No,” continued Rosanna. “We were talking about Minnie getting married one day, and I said it was the only wedding I was ever apt to have anything to do with because I had heard you say many times that you were not a marrying man.”

“What did she say?” asked Uncle Robert in a sort of strangled voice which Rosanna, skipping along at his side, failed to notice.

“Oh, she said, ‘How interesting!’ and I said, ‘Isn’t it? Because he is nicer than anyone I know, but he says that girls never cut any figure in his young life except to play with.’”

“What did she say then?” demanded Mr. Horton.

“Nothing at all,” answered Rosanna, “but she is sensible too, because the next time I was there, she asked more about Minnie, and then she said she had decided never to marry. She said she liked to be polite to men and help them pass the time, and to assist them in worthy works, but further than that she despised the whole lot of them, especially blonds.” Rosanna looked up to see what color hair Uncle Robert had, and noticed a very queer look on his face.

“You look so queer, Uncle Robert,” she said tenderly. “Don’t you feel well?”

“No, I don’t,” said Uncle Robert. “I think if you will excuse me I will take a walk.”

“Howdoyou feel?” persisted Rosanna.

“I feel—I feelqueer,” said Uncle Robert. “I feel sort of as though I had been gassed.”

He turned abruptly and went down the walk, leaving Rosanna staring after him. At dinner, however, Uncle Robert declared that he was all right, so Rosanna stopped worrying.

Everything went rushing along. And everything went beautifully, thanks to the energy everybody put into their work. A couple of days before the day of the entertainment Uncle Robert appeared with a copy of the programs that he had had printed. All the Girl Scouts, when Rosanna brought it to the rehearsal, read it until the paper was quite worn out. At the bottom of the page, after the program part, was printed plainly,Given by the Girl Scouts of Group II. Whoever saw the program at all could not fail to see that they were all in it, one as much as another.

At last the great day came! It was Saturday, of course. No other day would be possible for busy school girls. Directly after supper, the Scouts commenced to file into the theatre by ones and twos and threes. They gathered in the dressing-rooms back of the stage, where they sat or stood in solemn groups. Helen and Elise had arrived, and as Rosanna started across the garden she happened to think of Mr. Harriman. She could not suppress a groan of dismay as she remembered her promise to go after him. There was no time to getHelen or Elise to go. She looked wildly up and down for some other Girl Scout, but there was not one in sight. If she did not go, Mr. Harriman would indeed think that all women were alike. So she flitted down the street looking like a good fairy in her shimmering blue dress, with the tiny wreath of forget-me-nots banding her dark hair. She had not taken time to put on her blue evening coat, with its broad bands of white fox fur, but held it round her shoulders with both hands as she ran.

Mr. Harriman was at home, the footman said, but he was engaged; had company for dinner, and they had not quite finished. Would she wait?

Rosanna said she was sorry but she would have to go right in and speak to Mr. Harriman. So she passed the pompous servant and at the dining-room door a still more pompous butler, and stepped into the presence of Mr. Harriman and his guests.

Miss Harriman, a thin, scared little old lady, sat at the head of the table. Opposite her, busy with a large dish of plum pudding, sat Mr. Harriman. His two guests sat on either side of him. They were old too, so three white-haired old gentlemen turned and looked at Rosanna as she entered and dropped a curtsey.

“’Devening! There you are again! Grrrrrr! Didn’t forget, did you? Bah! Want I should go to show?” said Mr. Harriman, partly to Rosanna and partly to the others.

“Yes, sir; this is the night,” said Rosanna.

“What’s this?” asked one of the gentlemen, who looked as though he could not have saidgrrrrrrorbahto save his life.

“That’s a Girl Scout,” said Mr. Harriman. “Told you at the club that I would find out about ’em. Here’s a live one. Caught her myself.” He acted quite pleased.

“Shall I wait and walk over with you, Mr. Harriman,” asked Rosanna, “or will you come as soon as you can? You see I must be over there very early.”

“I will come m’self,” said Mr. Harriman. “Want piece puddin’? No? S’good! I will come later. Won’t break my word. Didn’t break yours. Bring these fellows along if they have any money.”

“How much will we need?” said the third old gentleman, laughing.

“Anything from a nickel up,” replied Rosanna.

“Cost you a quarter,” said Mr. Harriman. “Cosgrove, here, will have to pay thirty-five cents. Based on income tax!”

Rosanna, watching him, thought she saw a real twinkle in Mr. Harriman’s eye. She warned them to be on time and promised to save three seats for them in the front row. Then she went skipping happily off. Three instead of one to come to the play, two quarters, and thirty-five cents made eighty-five cents right there! It was enough to makeanyoneskip. When she reached the barnpeople were filing up the broad stairs, and the room was already half full. Uncle Robert stood near the door nodding and smiling and telling the Girl Scout ushers where to seat one and another. Rosanna hurriedly wrote “Taken” on the backs of three tickets, and laid them on three spaces on the bench nearest the stage. As people kept coming, she commenced to wonder if there would be seats enough. She whispered her fear to Uncle Robert.

“That’s all right,” he said. “I have one of the box stalls downstairs full of camp chairs, and the sign painter is here to help me bring them up if they are needed.”

“You think of everything,” said Rosanna fondly, then set herself to watch the door for Mr. Harriman. It was not long before she heard the clump, clump, clump of his cane and the heavy footsteps of his two friends. She escorted them proudly to their seats, and left them nodding appreciatively at the bright curtain and all the fittings of the little theatre. Then she hurried around back of the stage.

“They came, eighty-five cents’ worth!” she whispered to Helen.

“What do you mean?”

“Mr. Harriman is here and two of his friends,” said Rosanna. “And Mr. Harriman and one friend will give twenty-five cents, and the other will give thirty-five.”

“Good!” said Helen. “How do I look? Is theplace filling up? Have you seen the music Doctor Rick sent? Five pieces! They have just come. They are down in the feed room getting their instruments out. Oh, I amsoexcited! And it is all to make Gwenny well.”

“I am going out now,” said Rosanna. “I wish you could all sit out in front. It does not seem fair for me to do so.”

“Itisfair,” Helen assured her. “Didn’t you write the whole play? Of course you must see that it is played right.”

When Rosanna appeared she glanced at Mr. Harriman and was surprised to have him beckon her to him.

“Sit here,” he said, making a small but sufficient space between himself and one of his friends—the thirty-five cent one, Rosanna noticed. She sat down, and as she did so the music started off with a flourish. How splendidly it sounded! It quite drowned the sound of people entering. Uncle Robert, and the sign painter, and a couple of brothers belonging to one of the girls were busy bringing camp chairs and placing them in the wide aisle and along the sides. Two bright red spots burned on Rosanna’s cheeks.

She looked at her wrist watch. In five minutes it would begin. And it did.

A row of Girl Scouts in crisp, natty looking uniforms, marching according to size, so that the large girls were in the center of the stage, cameout before the curtain and sang one of their best Girl Scout songs. Their voices were so sweet and they sang so well that they had to return and give an encore. Mr. Harriman pounded with his cane.

Then the Webster girls, dressed as fairies, came out and danced what the program called the Moonbeam Dance, and behold, Uncle Robert had fixed a spot light so they looked pink and white and purple and blue by turns and it was like a real theatre.

There was so much applause after this that Rosanna could not help wondering if it was a good strong barn!

Then there was a short pause while the orchestra played.

As it ended, Uncle Robert appeared before the curtain. He looked so beautiful to Rosanna in his evening dress with his merry eyes and pleasant smile, that her eyes filled with tears of pride. And he made a beautiful simple little speech. He told the audience a great deal about the Girl Scouts and all the good the organization was doing for the girls and others as well, and then he told of the little lame girl, suffering so hopelessly and so patiently, and how these Girl Scouts had determined to help her. He told them there was no price set on the tickets, because some might feel like giving ten cents or even a quarter or so but that no one wasaskedto leave more than a nickel. And then he called their attention to the beautifulcurtain and told them that that and the scenery was the gift of a friend who was a sign painter, who had done it Sundays and nights after work as his contribution to the benefit, and everybody clapped furiously, and Mr. Harriman and the thirty-five cent gentleman commenced to nudge each other behind Rosanna.Shewas sitting on the very front edge of the bench.

Then Uncle Robert said:

“After another short selection by the orchestra there will be a play written by one of the Girl Scouts. We hope that you will enjoy it.” He bowed, and stepped behind the curtain, while everybody clapped and Mr. Harriman thumped with his cane.

As the orchestra struck up, the thirty-five cent gentleman leaned over to Mr. Harriman and said, “What are you going to do about it, Dick?”

“Do ’swell’s you do,” said Mr. Harriman.

“Just as much?” questioned the thirty-five cent gentleman.

“Yes,” said Mr. Harriman, snorting. “And fifty over!”

“I will break even with you both,” said the third gentleman, leaning across.

Mr. Cosgrove took out a check book and a fountain pen and commenced to write. Mr. Harriman leaned behind Rosanna and watched.

“Poh! Hum! Grrrrrr! Piker!” he said, and Mr. Cosgrove, laughing, tore up his check and wroteanother which he handed to Mr. Harriman. Rosanna did not think it would be polite to look, but wondered what in the world they were doing when they should have been listening to the music.

“S’all right,” said Mr. Harriman. “Girl’s pretty lame, isn’t she, Rosanna?”

“Gwenny can’t walk at all,” replied Rosanna, “and even at night her back hurts so she can’t sleep.”

“Poor little broken pot,” said the third gentleman softly. “A pity that the hand of the Potter slipped.”

“Save your poetry, Bristol!” grunted Mr. Harriman. “This talks better.” He struck the check book with his pen, and Mr. Bristol, borrowing a page, wrote busily as the curtain rose.

Rosanna, hoping they would forget business for a while, bent her eyes on the stage.

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