"I don't wonder she thinks those are plums," said Helen. "I thought they were plums when I was little and always called them plums long after I knew they were olives. Here, Luella, you can eat one now if you wish, but I don't believe you will like them at all. I didn't when I was little."
Luella took the offered dainty and popped it into her mouth. She managed to eat it, although she made awful faces. Tommy, watching her, did not ask for a serving.
"Can I help?" said the strange girl politely. "I wish you would let me. I would feel better to do something when you are going to give us such a perfectly lovely supper."
"Please sit still and rest," said Rosanna, smiling. "You want to feel real good and hungry when supper is ready, and I am sure you must be tired nearly to death. And if you would tell us your name.... We know which is Tommy, and Myron, and Luella, but we don't know the baby's name, nor yours."
"The baby is little Christopher," said the guest, reaching over to pat the little hand, "and my name is Mary. You are Rosanna and you are Helen, and I heard them call you Minnie."
"Perfectly right," said Minnie. "Will it hurt the baby to crawl around on the grass?"
"Oh, no, indeed," said Mary. "He crawls allover. He gets some dreadful tumbles but he never cries. He has fallen out of bed so many times that we keep the floor all covered with pillows in front of the bed, and last week he fell down the cellar stairs. Tommy forgot and left the door open."
"My good land, didn't it kill the poor child?" asked Minnie.
"No, there was a bushel basket partly full of potatoes on the landing, and he fell into those and never hurt himself at all. He didn't even cry but a minute. He is the best baby we have ever had."
"My land, you poor chicken, you!" said Minnie. "You talk like you was the mother of the whole bunch!"
"I help a lot with them," said Mary simply, "and I guess they are 'most as much mine as mother's. You see she works and somebody has to take care of them. And it isn't such very hard work, especially since I joined the Girl Scouts. All the girls are so good, and have such a lot of good times, and oh, it makes everything different!"
"What are Girl Scouts?" said Rosanna. Both girls looked at her in amazement. "I know what Boy Scouts are," she said hastily, "but I never heard of Girl Scouts."
Helen patted her on the arm. "Well, Rosanna, some day I will tell you all about them, but now we must hurry and get the rest of the things on the table because I don't think Tommy will ever live if he has to wait much longer."
"I know Myron is awfully hungry too," said Mary, smiling at her little brother. "He never says a word, but I can tell what he thinks. Myron is such a help to me. He is just as good at remembering things as Tommy is at forgetting them."
"He helped to forget the lunch," said Tommy.
Myron spoke up in self-defence. "No, I didn't! I was helping Mary pick up Luella and I thought you had it. You had it the last I saw."
"I put it down after that," said Tommy as though that explained everything.
"I think I will lay the baby down beside this tree and let him have his bottle," said Mary. "That will keep him quiet all the time we eat."
"Wait a minute until we fix a nice place," said Minnie. She brought a couple of auto robes and made a smooth, soft bed under the tree.
"There he is!" she said. Mary, who had been unwrapping wads of newspapers, produced a bottle of milk which she gave the baby. He settled down to a quiet enjoyment of his meal, and Mary sighed as she sat down at the edge of the tablecloth.
"Idohope you won't mind if I look at everything," she said. "I neversawso manylovelythings in my life even in a delicatessen window."
The children, very, very solemn but oh so thrilled, seated themselves on the grass and silently accepted the plates of good things that Helen and Rosanna dished out for them. It is to be said for the everlasting credit of the jello that it didnotmelt, and the saladdidride well, although Minnie had gloomily expected it to be "all over the place" as she expressed it.
How those children did eat! Commencing with the ham sandwiches and the lettuce and egg sandwiches, and the cold hard-boiled eggs, and crackers and olives, and fruit salad, and very,verythin iced tea with lemon in it, and jello for dessert!
About half way through the smaller children commenced to thaw out and lose their shyness, and talk.Howthey did talk! Myron said nothing (but that was expected of Myron). When at last Rosanna was tipping up the second thermos bottle to see if there was a drop of tea left, and they were all eating the last cookies very, very slowly, partly to make them last and partly because they were so full and comfortable, Rosanna happened to notice Myron. She motioned to Helen to look. Myron had not eaten everything. He had slyly lifted the tablecloth and had hidden under it a hamsandwich rather nibbled as to edge, a small pile of cookies (his share) and his plate of jello, which he had slipped off on a paper napkin.
"He couldn't eat all his supper, and he is afraid we won't like it," whispered Rosanna.
"I am going to ask him," said Helen. She stepped over to the boy, who was sitting close to his little pile of goodies as though trying to hide it. "Couldn't you eat all your supper?"
Myron nodded.
Mary glanced quickly at her brother, and said, "Why, Myron,whateverare you trying to do?"
Tommy piped up. "I guess he's going to take 'em home to eat on the way."
"I amnot!" said Myron hotly, stung into self-defence as usual by his brother. "I amnot! Going to take it home to mamma and Gwenny. I haven't had a speck more'n my share. I counted every time, and everybody had four cookies 'cept Tommy. He had six. And I saved my sandwich out, and the jell!"
Tears stood in Mary's eyes. "But it isn't polite, Myron, to take anything away without asking and, anyway, I know mamma and Gwenny will be satisfied to just hear about our good time, and they wouldn't want you to do such a thing." She tried to put the cookies back on the table but Myron clung to them stubbornly.
"No, no!" he said. "They aremythings! I went without 'em, and I want to take them hometo mamma and Gwenny. Gwenny never had any cookies like those. And the jell is so pretty. I put a egg in my pocket too." Myron's lip trembled, but he did not cry although Tommy giggled openly.
"Of course you shall take them home to your mother! Who is Gwenny—your dog?" asked Rosanna.
"Gwenny is mysister!" said Myron furiously.
Rosanna felt that she always said the wrong thing.
"Oh, excuse me, Myron," she said meekly.
A shade of sorrow passed over Mary's bright little face as she said, "Gwenny can never go anywhere with us. She is sick, and never goes anywhere."
"Sick in bed?" questioned Rosanna.
"No, she has a wheel chair, and when her back doesn't hurt too much, she can be wheeled around the house and sometimes out in the yard. But she wouldn't want Myron to do anything like this, so rude."
"But Gwenny neverhadany cookies as good as those, and the jell is so pretty!" repeated Myron stubbornly.
"I think it is so nice of you, Myron," said Rosanna. "I wish I had known about Gwenny too so I could have saved her some of my cookies. Let me help you do them up. You can take them to her just as you meant to, and I know she will like them because her little brother went without to savesome for her. And some day soon, Myron, we will bring her a whole picnic for herself, and perhaps she will ask you to help her eat it."
"I'll help her too," said Tommy, puffing up his chest. "I'd just as soon!"
Minnie, bending over the hamper, whispered to Rosanna, "I'll bet he'll help her! My, my, how I do want to fix that boy! I wish my third sister from the oldest, Louisa Cordelia, had him for a while. I reckon one day with her would make him feel different on a good many subjects. Little pig!" Minnie's eyes snapped.
Rosanna laughed. "I suppose he doesn't know any better, Minnie."
"Know any better? Well, Miss Rosanna, Myron didn't need any help about remembering his poor hard-worked mother and his sick sister. I don't doubt Mary thought of 'em too, but she was too polite to say a word after all you have done for them. But poor little Myron didn't know it wasn't polite, so he just goes ahead and keeps part of his treat. If there are any cookies in Master Tommy's pockets, they will never get as far as his house."
"Well, I think heisselfish," said Rosanna regretfully. "But, Minnie, we must take some good things to that Gwenny. I think grandmother would want me to."
After the supper things were all packed away in the hamper, everybody sat around and wondered what to do next. Then Rosanna had a fine idea.
She seated herself next the shy little Myron and suggested that everybody should tell a story. Tommy and Myron looked rather wild. Rosanna saw the look, and said that she thought they ought to commence with Helen, because she looked as though she knew lots of stories.
Helen said she didn't know so very many, but she was willing to try.
"This is a really truly story about a little, little boy. He did not have any brothers or sisters, and he was very lonely and unhappy although he had nice clothes and plenty to eat. So he thought if he just had a little kitten or a dog to play with and live with he would be a good deal happier, and perhaps he would even get to be as happy as he could be. But his mother did not like to have dogs or cats around because they tracked up things, so she wouldn't let him have them. And somebody wanted to give him a canary but his mother thought it would be a lot of trouble to feed. And once he 'most got a pair of white rats with his Fourth of July money, but they simply wouldn't let him. So there he was; and he grew lonelier and lonelier and he used to sit on the top step and stare down the street and wish he might whistle at the dogs he saw, but he wouldn't for fear one of them might be looking for a home and then it would be so disappointed after he had patted it and been kind to it, if it had to go on again.
"Well, one day there was a picnic down the river.The people went by boat and then landed at the picnic grove, and spent the afternoon. The little boy, whose name was Peter, went with his mother and aunt, and when they got to the grove his mother said to his aunt, 'I don't see any reason why Peter shouldn't walk around and amuse himself and play with some of those children.' And his aunt said, 'Yes, if he doesn't fall into the river,' and his mother said, 'Peter, you see to it that you don't go near the bank.'
"Peter said 'yes, ma'am,' and really meant to mind. He walked off and pretty soon—oh, yes, I forgot to say that his mother gave him ten cents to spend for popcorn or on the merry-go-round. So pretty soon Peter saw a dog walking around with his tail sort of down as though he didn't know anybody and was not having a very nice time. Peter didn't call him, but he wished he knew the dog, he was such a pretty collie with beautiful long hair and such a nice face. Pretty soon the dog saw Peter, and quick as a wink he knew that Peter was lonely too, so he came up to him. They got to be friends in a minute and went walking off together, and Peter spent his ten cents for popcorn and shared it with the dog.
"So they went around liking each other more and more, and when it came time for supper the dog lay right under Peter's chair, and Peter's mother said, 'Well, if you haven't picked up a dog! I declare that child beats all!'
"After supper Peter and the dog walked around some more, and Peter knew that soon the boat would start and he would have to leave the dog and he felt worse and worse about it until he almost couldn't bear it at all.
"And he was thinking so hard that he forgot what his mother had told him, and walked along the top of the bank by the river. It was a high bank and crumbly; and all of a sudden a piece broke off and Peter slipped and slid down, down into the river, and under he went. The next thing he knew he was on the bank, and his mother was crying, and there was a lot of people, and the dog was there wet as sop, and he was trying to lick Peter's face, and Peter's mother was letting him do it. And a man said, 'Madame, if it hadn't been for that dog, your son would have been drowned. I saw it all.'
"Then Peter's mother kissed him, and patted the dog, and she said, 'Peter, if that dog has no home we will take him for your dog, and if he has, we will try to buy him.' But it turned out that the dog did not belong to anyone, and so Peter took him home, and had him for his dog always."
"Why, that's a perfectly beautiful story!" exclaimed Rosanna, and all the children thought so too.
"You ought to seemydog," said Tommy. "He's a fighter, he is!"
"How can you say that?" said Mary. "He is only three months old and can scarcely walk straight."
"Well, I bet he will fight when he gets bigger."
"He's not your dog anyhow," said Myron. "He's Gwenny's."
"Yes, and Myron bought him for her at the Pet Shop with money he earned himself. It is a toy poodle, so he won't ever be big."
"Now who tells the next story?" asked Rosanna. "I think it is Tommy's turn."
"Don't know none," said Tommy.
"Don't knowany," his sister corrected him. "Go on and try, Tommy."
Tommy breathed hard, then said rapidly:
"Well, once over on the parkway two kids was playin', and a man came along drivin' a race horse, and it had got scared at a nautomobile, and was runnin' away, and the rein had broke, and the man he yelled, 'I'll give anybuddy a million dollars to stop this horse,' and one of the kids 'bout my size give a leap and grabbed the horse by the nose and stopped him. And the man jumped right out and give the kid a million dollars."
"The saints forgive him!" said Minnie. She did not say who.
"Mercy me!" said Rosanna.
"What did he do with the money?" asked Helen.
"Spent it," said Tommy promptly. "Went right down town and spent it."
"What could he spend such a lot for?" asked Helen.
"Spent it for candy and ice-cream cones and sody and cake, and he went to the circus and all the side shows, and Fontaine Ferry and bought a nautomobile and sling shot and everything."
"My sister Louisa Cordelia ought to know you," said Minnie.
"Don't want to know any girls," said Tommy rudely.
Rosanna felt that it was time to change the conversation. "Now who next?" she asked pleasantly. "What story can Luella tell?"
"I don't believe she can tell any story," said Mary, "but she knows some little verses she learned in school. They have such a sweet young lady for a teacher; mamma says she never saw anybody take such pains with the children as she does." She turned to Luella who was wriggling in embarrassment and biting her finger. "Speak something Miss Marie taught you, Luella honey."
"Miss Marie?" said Minnie. "Miss Marie? What is her other name?"
"Corrigan," said Mary.
"Well, then, that's my younger sister," said Minnie proudly. "She's a teacher, and Iwillsay she is a good one. Nothing would do but she must go through normal school and teach. Seems likeshe was just made for it, so patient and loving." She cast a glance at Tommy. "Not much like my sister Louisa Cordelia, she isn't."
"The children just love her to death," said Mary. "Go on, honey, and say the little piece about the little bird."
Luella arose, breathed hard, curtseyed, and very sweetly recited,
A little bird sat on a tree,He said, "This seems a pleasant day,He bent his pretty little head,He shook his pretty feathers out.When all the leaves have fallen downWhen snow is deep on dell and hill,This would not be the place for me,""I know a land far, far away,He waved a wing and winked an eye,And waved his little wing at me.I think perhaps I'll fly away.""I don't see any worms," he said."It's growing cold without a doubt.And all the trees are bare and brown,And wintry winds are cold and chill,He said, and teetered on his tree.Where winter is as warm as May."And off he flew, "Good-bye, good-bye!"
All the children except Tommy clapped their hands when Luella finished. It did indeed sound sweet and she spoke it very prettily, waving her hand and winking her own eye at the end.
Rosanna and Myron felt that their time had come. They looked at each other, but Minnie settled the question.
"Now it is Miss Rosanna's turn," she said, "and then Myron's. Ladies first. Give us a real nice story, Miss Rosanna."
"About robbers," said Tommy, chewing on a grass stem.
"I don't know any about robbers," said Rosanna pleasantly, "but I do know one about a cat, or a kitten rather, and it really happened. Helen told one about a dog, and this is about a cat.
"Once there were two little boys, Walter and Harold, and they were going a long, long way to their new home in the West where they were going to live. And they had a pet kitten that they wanted to take along so badly that fin'ly their mother and father said they might take it if they would carry it in its basket all the way and never ask anyone else to take care of it. So they said they would, and by-and-by they had everythingpacked up and ready, and when the time came, they started off and got on the train, kitten and all.
"They had things for it to eat and milk for it to drink, and when the conductor was not in the car they used to take it out of its basket and pet it and play with it. And the kitten didn't mind it a bit.
"Well, when they had been on the train a couple of days they let the kitten out, and Harold had it on his lap sound asleep.
"But just when they were at a station and the train was standing still, something awfully exciting happened outside the window, and both boys forgot the kitten. She jumped down from Harold's lap and went along under the seats toward the end of the car. She thought she was going to have a nice little walk, but just then the brakeman came into the car and there was a kitten under one of the seats. He thought of course it had hopped on the car there at the station, so he took it up and put the poor little thing off the train, and then thatveryminute the whistle blew and off they went.
"It was a vestibule train, and when Walter and Harold found out that their kitten was gone they hunted every inch of the car over, and then hunted through the next car, thinking that she might have gone across the vestibule and into the other car. But she was not there. Just then along came the brakeman again and when the boys asked him if he had seen a kitten, he said, 'Why, sure! Was thatyourcat? I thought she had hopped on thetrain back there at the last station, and I took her and put her off.'
"Well, the boys felt so badly they didn't know what todo, and the brakeman said they would not stop at any station for sixty miles. Walter said he was going back to see if he could find her, but the brakeman said she was most likely gone by this time or somebody had picked her up. He was awfully sorry about it.
"When they had gone the sixty miles the car stopped, but the boys didn't care to look out or anything. They just sat and thought about their little kittie, and Harold said, 'Seems as though I can hear her cry,' and Walter said, 'Don't say that again,' and then he looked funny, because he thought he could hear her himself!
"Harold said, 'I suppose she is dead, and that is her ghost.' Walter said, 'No, it's not; even kitten ghosts don't make a noise. There it is again.'
"And then they looked around very slowly, the way you do when you think something is going to happen and you don't know just what it will be, and there in the seat back of them was the brakeman and he was holding that kitten!
"When he opened the car door he found her squeezed up in a corner of the top step, where she had ridden all that long way. When the brakeman tossed her off she knew that the boys were on the train, so she climbed right back, but she didn't geton quick enough to get into the vestibule before the door was shut, so she had to hang on and ride outside. She was scared nearly to death and jumped at every sound and trembled for days, but the boys petted her and comforted her, and by-and-by she felt all right. And there were lots of mice in the house they went to live in, and that took her mind off herself. And that's all of that," said Rosanna, smiling.
"That's a nice story," said Minnie. "Now let's hear what Myron has to tell."
Myron shook his head. "Oh, go on, Myron," said Helen. "Tell us a story, please, even if itisshort!"
"Once there was a little boy," said Myron, without waiting to be teased. "Once there was a little boy and he had a mamma and two brothers and three sisters, and he grew up and made lots of money, and bought lots of nice things for his mamma, and his two brothers and his three sisters and that's all."
"The dear lamb!" said Minnie. "That's the best story of the lot."
"Mine was better," said Tommy. "Mine was a real feller."
"Oh," murmured Minnie, "Louisa Cordelia has justgotto get hold of you, young man!"
"I suppose it is my turn now," said Mary, "as long as you want to save Minnie for the last. Could you let me say you a little poetry, or wasLuella's enough? I think some poetry sort of mixes things up a little."
"I think poetry islovely," said Rosanna sweetly. "We loved Luella's verses."
"Well, then I will say some instead of a story." Mary cleared her throat and, rising, made a little bow.
The day I die, I'll quickly goPast all the angels, row on row,Straight up to God; I'll know His faceEven up there in that new place.In Sunday School, the way they teach,God is almost too great to reach.They act a little bit afraid;Because the world and all He made.But if He made the heavens blue,He made the sweet wild violets too;And Oh, what careful work it tookTo plan the small trout in the brook.I know He's just the very sizeOf father; with most loving eyes.Just big enough so one like meCan safely lean against His knee.
"Those were lovely verses," said Minnie when Mary had finished. "I wonder who wrote them."
"My teacher wrote them," said Mary. "I think they are real nice."
"I do think it is a waste of time for me to tell astory," said Minnie. "First you know the machine will be here and then we will have to hurry home."
"I would like to hear you tell a story ever so much," said Mary. "I know it would be a nice one, but I must be starting along pretty soon. It is a long way from here to the car track, and I have to stop so often on account of the baby being so heavy. It is so funny about babies, they seem to get so heavy toward night."
"Indeed they do after you have lugged them about all day," said Minnie. "I say I know all about it, dearie."
"We are not going to let you walk at all," said Rosanna. "We are going to take you wherever you live right in the car."
"Nautomobile ride! Nautomobile ride!" chanted Tommy, tossing his cap.
"I think you are just too good," said Mary. "Will your automobile hold such a lot?"
"Oh, yes, indeed, and more too!" said Rosanna, glad for once that she had a big Pierce-Arrow.
"I hear the car coming," said Minnie. Everybody listened, and sure enough the big car rounded the bend and drew up at the bank with a mighty blast of the horn. Tommy yelled in reply and bolted for it, the others following, loaded down with the empty hamper and rugs, and by no means least, the baby, awake now and very happy after his sleep.
Minnie marshalled them into their places, putting the two boys on the front seat with Mr. Culver, and off they rolled. When they reached the little house where the children lived, Mary thanked Rosanna and Helen and Minnie and Mr. Culver again and she would have liked to thank the car too, and the hamper. Even Tommy managed to say, "Much obliged!" before he rushed to the house so he could have the fun of telling all about it before Mary could get there.
But Mary did not mind. This was something that would have to be told over and over a dozen or twenty times. She stood with Luella and Myron, the baby looped over her arm, and watched the car disappear with a feeling of happiness and gratitude that filled her thin little frame to overflowing.
When the car reached the great white steps ofRosanna's house, the two little girls said good-night.
"I never had such a nice, lovely, beautiful day in all my life, Rosanna," she said. "And all because you were so good and kind."
"You would have thought of it just the same," said Rosanna, blushing. "But oh, Helen and Minnie,wasn'tit lucky that we took such a lot of lunch?"
"Well, it did turn out so," said Minnie.
The car rolled away, and Rosanna and Minnie went into the big, cool hall.
On the table was a letter addressed to Rosanna in her grandmother's stiff, precise handwriting. Rosanna took it up with a sort of groan.
"That's to tell when she is coming home, of course," she said. "I won't read it until I am all undressed. Everything is going so beautifully and I am learning such a lot and having such a lovely time that it doesn't seem as though I could bear to have it come to an end."
"I think you ought to read your letter, Rosanna," Minnie said. "I don't believe in leaving things. You expect bad news in that letter and you are having a horrid time all the time you are getting ready for bed. You couldn't feel any worse if you opened it. And suppose there was good news in it? Then you would wish you had found it out before, wouldn't you?"
"I suppose so," said Rosanna listlessly.
She sighed and, taking the letter, tore off the end of the envelope and commenced to read. The second sentence caused her to cry out. She turned to Minnie, hugged her, and cried, "Oh, Minnie, you are so wise! Just listen to this!" The letter read:
"My dear Granddaughter Rosanna:
"What news I have had from home leads me to believe that you are well and being nicely cared for.
"Since this is the case, I feel that it will be possible for me to remain here in the East for a few weeks with your Uncle Robert. He is not ill, you understand, but is run down and nervous from the effects of his wound and many trying experiences abroad. He is fussing because he has lost track of a soldier friend of his, the man who saved his life. He is doing all he can to trace him, as he feels—and of course so do I—that we could never do enough to repay the debt we owe him.
"About yourself, I hope you will have a good time. Do not forget to practice. Mrs. Hargrave spoke of seeing a very interesting child at our house. I am very glad you have found among your acquaintances one whom you would like to make your friend. I can trust you, Rosanna, to choose wisely. And I am glad to see that Mrs. Hargrave says that this Helen somebody comes of an old Lee County family. I cannot read the name. Mrs. Hargrave is a very careless penman.Always write distinctly, Rosanna. It is one of the many marks of good breeding.
"Your Uncle Robert sends his love. He is anxious to see you.
Your loving grandmother,
Virginia Lee Horton.
Rosanna read the letter twice.
Then she turned and looked at Minnie. "It's good and bad too, isn't it, Minnie? You know Helen isnotone of the Culvers of Lee County, but she is just as good and sweet as though she belonged to all the Lee County Culvers in the world. Minnie, what shall I do?"
"You must do what you think right, dearie," said Minnie, her kind, wise eyes searching the girl's face. "I can't tell you what to do. You must decide for yourself. It's one of the biggest things in the world to learn; that is, to decide what is right and wrong without someone telling us."
She kissed Rosanna good-night and left the room. A moment later she returned. "Mrs. Hargrave just telephoned, dearie, that she wants you and Helen to take luncheon with her to-morrow." Once more she bade the little girl good-night, and Rosanna, tired out, fell asleep before the door was closed.
She did not see Helen the next day until time for luncheon, but when she waked up she found a book lying beside her bed. Helen had sent it over toher. It was all about the Girl Scouts, and their rules and duties and pleasures, and Rosanna found it hard work not to sit down and read instead of taking her cold bath and dressing herself. Then after breakfast came the history lesson and the music and dressing again, and when Helen, very crisp and dainty, came in ready to go to Mrs. Hargrave's, she found that Rosanna had not had time to read a single line.
Mrs. Hargrave lived three houses away, and the children felt very important and fine, especially Helen, who had never been asked to luncheon with a grown-up lady before. Her eyes grew round when they entered the house. It was so dim and cool and "old timey" as Helen put it.
Mrs. Hargrave always dressed in the latest fashion for old ladies, yet somehow she always looked as though she belonged to another day and time. When she drove about the city she scorned the modern automobile. She went in the spickest and spannest little carriage drawn by an old, sleek and still frisky roan horse with a gold mounted harness and her driver was a colored man as haughty and aristocratic looking as Mrs. Hargrave herself; perhaps a little more so.
She advanced to meet the two little girls with a charming manner that made them curtsey their very prettiest and caused them to feel more important and grown up than ever.
During luncheon Mrs. Hargrave said:
"Will your brother return to college now that the war is over, Helen?"
Helen looked up in surprise. "I think you have me mixed up with some other little girl, Mrs. Hargrave," she said. "I have no brother."
Mrs. Hargrave stared at her guest. "Are you not Lucius Culver's youngest child?" she questioned. "The Lee County Culvers?"
"No, Mrs. Hargrave," said Helen. "I am John Culver's daughter."
"Another family," said Mrs. Hargrave and changed the subject politely by asking Rosanna what she had heard from her grandmother.
Helen sat thinking. She was a straightforward, honest little girl, and somehow she felt as though she was sailing under false colors as far as Mrs. Hargrave went. She felt sure of Rosanna; Rosanna did not care whether she was poor or rich, and it made no difference at all to her that Helen's father worked for Mrs. Horton. But some people were different, Helen reflected. Twice Mrs. Hargrave had spoken of Helen being one of the Culvers of Lee County, and Helen wondered if it would make any difference to the fine old lady sitting there in her soft, shimmery silks, with the long string of real pearls about her neck if she thought the little girl sitting there as her guest was living over a garage back of Mrs. Horton's elegant home. It puzzled Helen and troubled her. But try as she might, not once did the talk turn so she could bringin what she felt she wanted Mrs. Hargrave to know. It justwouldn'tcome about.
After luncheon was over Mrs. Hargrave took the children and showed them some of the strange and curious things about the house.
Then she had a delightful suggestion to make. She herself was obliged to go down town to see her lawyer and she thought it would be very nice for the girls to come for a little ride. To Rosanna, used only to automobiles, and Helen who rode most of the time in street cars, the idea of riding along after the proud gold-harnessed, frisky old horse in the spick-and-span carriage was a treat and an adventure. Making themselves politely small and quiet, sitting on either side of Mrs. Hargrave, they went trotting down Third Street, turned by the big white library building, and continued down Fourth Street where they eyed the crowds, read the giddy signs in front of the movie houses and looked at the window displays.
While Mrs. Hargrave talked to her lawyer, the girls sat in the carriage and pretended that they were grown-up ladies.
When Mrs. Hargrave came out, they started up Fourth Street.
"Do you know," said Mrs. Hargrave, "this is the first time in all my life that any little girls have visited me without their mothers? And I have had thenicesttime I think I ever had. I want toremember it always." She gave the signal to stop, and asked the children to get out.
"There is something I want to get here," she said, and led the way into a big jeweler's shop. The two girls stopped to look at the rings in the case near the door, but Mrs. Hargrave called them. "I need a notebook and pencil and I thought you would like to help me select it. I am a rather fussy and very forgetful old lady."
She did seem fussy over that notebook, but finally chose a dainty gold one with a square in the center for initials. Attached by a tiny gold chain was a slender pencil with a blue stone in the top.
Then, to their amazement, the clerk laid two others exactly like it on the counter. Three just alike!
"I think it would be nice for us all to remember our pleasant day, don't you?" asked Mrs. Hargrave, smiling. "I want to give you each one just like this one that I am getting for myself. Then we will think of each other whenever we use them."
Helen lifted Mrs. Hargrave's delicate old hand and laid it against her cheek.
"Oh, Mrs. Hargrave," she cried, "I willneverforget you. I don't need the notebook, but it is too lovely, and I will keep it as long as I live."
Mrs. Hargrave's eyes filled with tears. "Bless your heart!" she said.
The very next day Mrs. Hargrave was called into the country to see a sick cousin. She telephoned Minnie before she left and told her that she felt that things were going along as well as anyone could possibly expect, and that she was delighted with Rosanna and her little friend. This message distressed Minnie for she was just about to go to see Mrs. Hargrave.
Minnie was not happy. Silly and foolish as it was, she well knew that the proud old Mrs. Horton would not be willing to accept as poor and simple a child as Helen for Rosanna's closest friend, no matter how sweet and well mannered she might be. Minnie, who knew real worth when she saw it, despised Mrs. Horton for her overbearing ideas, but what to do she didn't know. She feared a storm if she let things go until Mrs. Horton's return, yet she dreaded a separation for the children, when they might enjoy each other for two or three weeks longer.
Rosanna was improving daily. Minnie was pleased and proud to see how she continued to do for herself and learn in every way to be independent. Her sewing was wonderful. She wasworking eagerly on a little dark blue dress like Helen's for herself, and with Minnie's help was even putting a little simple cross-stitching on the cuffs and yoke. Rosanna was prouder of that dress than of anything she had ever had in her beautiful, crowded wardrobe.
Minnie felt that she wanted to consult with someone, and the most sensible person she knew was Mrs. Hargrave. But with Mrs. Hargrave away, all Minnie could see to do was to let things go along, and "trust to luck" as she put it. Minnie didn't like "trusting to luck" at all; and every time she saw the two children playing together so happily and busily she shook her head and sighed.
Rosanna, too, in a dim way was feeling troubled, because she too knew her grandmother, and remembered other times when she had been severely scolded for trying to make friends with children whose parents did not measure up to the standard set by Mrs. Horton.
In fact, for all the seeming happiness, no one was wholly happy but Helen!
Helen had been taught by her wise young mother that the most important things in life are not to be measured as anything that money can buy. According to Mrs. Culver, a little girl must be obedient and truthful and well behaved and kind. She must have a low and pleasant voice and be able to sit in the presence of her elders without trying toenter the conversation unless asked to do so. These things she had taught Helen, and her little girl had been a ready pupil. Mrs. Culver was justly proud of her.
Rosanna was just a bit afraid. And the fear caused her to go in a line that was notperfectlystraightforward. She was sorry enough for it afterward—sorrier than she thought she could ever be. But that did not mend things in the least.
Because she did not know just how to turn around and explain everything to her grandmother and still be sure of her happy time, to say nothing of protecting her dear Helen from distress, when she answered her grandmother's letter she wrote as follows:
Dear Grandmother:
"I was glad to get your letter, and I am glad Uncle Robert is home again. Give my love to him, please. I am glad you are having a good time, and I hope you will stay away as long as you like. I am having a very good time. Oh, grandmother, I am having a lovely time. What do you think? Mrs. Hargrave had Helen and me to luncheon with her, and she likes Helen as much as I do, only she doesn't belong to the Lee family, and after luncheon Mrs. Hargrave took us down town with her, and before we came home she bought each of us a gold notebook with a gold pencil on a gold chain fastenedto it. She bought herself one too so we each have one just like a secret society.
"I am learning to cook and to sew. I am making myself a dress. It is very pretty. I shall make a good many of my dresses after this. It saves a good deal of money, Minnie says, and I can help the poor with it.
"We went out to Jacobs Park for a picnic, and five poor little children had lost their basket of supper. So I thought what you would do if you saw five little children who had lost their supper, and I asked them to have supper with us. There was enough, on account of our taking Uncle Robert's hamper, and Uncle Robert always liking to be generous.
"We have planned a great many things. If they don't all get done before you come home, grandmother, perhaps you will enjoy doing them too.
"I am learning a great deal about the Girl Scouts. I want to be one.
"Did you know our cook has a little lame boy at home? I was glad to find it out. It is one more person to be kind to. I have sent him all my set of puzzle pictures.
"Minnie is planning to get married. She has a trunk of things. When you come home won't it be nice because we can go down town and buy something for her. She will like something you have given her.
"She likes you very much, I am sure, because she always says, 'Well, all I can say is there's not many like your grandmother in this world.'
"I think it is so nice to be liked. I want to grow up to be liked. I think being a Girl Scout will help. Helen says all sorts of girls belong, rich as well as poor, and that it broadens you.
"This is a long letter, grandmother, but I had a good deal to tell you. So please have a good time, grandmother, and I am your loving little girl
Rosanna.
Minnie sent a letter too. It read:
"Mrs. Horton:
"I wish to report that everything seems to be going smoothly. Mrs. Hargrave has taken a great liking to Miss Rosanna, and her new friend Miss Helen, and likes to have them with her. Miss Rosanna practices and studies faithfully, and her music teacher says she never had such a bright pupil. I have her take a rest in the middle of each day. The day you left she broke her bottle of tonic, and I could not get more, as you have the prescription. But I do not think she needs it. She has gained two pounds since you left us. I give her hair a hundred strokes each night. I think she wants to bob her hair, it is so very long and heavy, but I tell her not for worlds, as you are so proud of it.
"We are keeping to the routine you ordered except when Mrs. Hargrave has made some slight change, but of course I know that is all right, as you told me she might wish to do so.
Respectfully,
Minnie."
And Mrs. Hargrave wrote from the country a letter full of praise for both little girls and for Minnie.
Mrs. Horton received all three letters the same day. She slipped them away in her portfolio, thinking as she did so, with a smile, of Cousin Hendy's trunks full of letters.
One thing troubled her a little. It seemed as though she could see in all the letters evidences that little Rosanna was undergoing some slight changes in her way of thinking and acting. And Mrs. Horton did not care to have Rosanna change in the least. She was perfectly satisfied the way she was. It had not occurred to Mrs. Horton to wonder if poor little motherless Rosanna was satisfied with her pampered, lonely life.
Mrs. Horton had Rosanna's life all mapped out. However, she remembered the high stone wall and reflected that the child could see very little of the outside world if she was kept behind that.
How the time did fly! The days were not long enough for all the two girls crowded into them.
In a few weeks Helen would be going away to a Scout camp where dozens of girls would live in tents and row and swim and fish and cook and listen to wise and sympathetic talks from their leaders. Helen knew all about it from past trips, and she spent hours while they sat working on their presents for Mrs. Hargrave, whose birthday was rapidly approaching, telling Rosanna all about their good times. Rosanna felt that she never could bear it if she couldn't be a Girl Scout. Helen, not knowing Mrs. Horton, did not see how any grown person could refuse such a request and she told Rosanna so.
They had made a great many plans for Mrs. Hargrave's birthday. She was coming to take dinner with them.
Mrs. Hargrave never looked more beautiful nor more imposing than when she arrived. The two girls were overcome with pride as they saw their guest descend from her little carriage and, laying her hand on the arm of the old colored man who attended her, walk slowly up the steps.
When dinner was served, it was perfectly splendid to hear Mrs. Hargrave exclaim over the flowers and the favors and everything.
During the meal the children told Mrs. Hargrave what they hoped to be.
Rosanna wanted to be an artist. Helen said she intended to grow up and marry and be the mother of a family.
"Bless my soul!" said Mrs. Hargrave, staring at her. "What put that in your head?"
"Something mother learned in college," said Helen simply. "She believes it, and of course so do I. There was a teacher in college who was very wise, mother says, and he warned them and warned them against what he called popular complaints. He said they must always be careful before they joined anything and promised to uphold it to understandexactlywhat it was and how far it would lead them. He said it didn't matter whether they were thinking of going into a nunnery or joining the Salvation Army or the Suffragets or what else, they wanted to ask themselves could they lift themselves and help humanity by doing that thing. And he said in this day and age when there were so many dissatisfied people everywhere, he thought the most important thing in the world was to teach everyone, and especially children, the love of country."
"Wise man," said Mrs. Hargrave, nodding. "What else?"
"He told them that love of country was not boasting about where you came from, and telling everybody how high the corn grows in New York, or how blue the grass is in Kentucky or things about places like that. He says that is nothing but bragging. But he said what people needed was to love all their country, east and west and south and north, to try to understand one another and to pull together for the United States.
"And he said that if every one of those girls who married and had children would teach them this as hard as ever they could, some day the states would really be united, and wiser laws would be made, and all the young Americans would love their country and be willing to live for her. He said it is harder to live faithfully for anything than to die for it because it takes so much longer."
"Bless my soul!" said Mrs. Hargrave again. "Go on!"
"That's all," said Helen. "I don't see what else I can do except teach some children of my own about it, do you, Mrs. Hargrave?"
"I think that would be the finest thing you could do," said the childless old lady. "Quite the finest! Are you going to college?"
"I want to," said Helen, "if we can afford it. We are saving up for it all the time."
"How do you save?" asked Mrs. Hargrave. She was certainly a curious old lady.
"Well," said Helen, "I wear my hair docked,and that saves a lot in hair ribbons, only this fall mother says I must let it grow. When mother takes me to buy a coat, we look attwogood ones that will last two winters, but perhaps one has pretty braid or something on it, that makes it cost more. Then if one of us looks as though we wanted it the other one whispers, 'Rah rah rah, college ah,' which is our own college yell, and we take theplainone.
"Lots of ways it looks to be harder on mother than it is on me. I know she goes without so many things she would love—lectures and concerts and all that. I justhatethat part!"
"I am glad you do," said Mrs. Hargrave.
"Helen and I are hoping that we can go to college together," said Rosanna.
"Rosanna is so dear," said Helen. "She wants to help me save, but of course that won't do."
"I don't see why not," said Rosanna. They had talked this over many times. "Do you see, Mrs. Hargrave? I never spend my allowance."
"No," said Mrs. Hargrave, "it wouldn't do at all. In the first place Helen is earning her education in a lovely way, and your allowance is given you. It is no effort for you to get it, so it does not benefit you, my little dear. Helen must go on herself. Her help could only come from a fairy godmother."
"There are no fairy godmothers," said Rosanna bitterly.
"I was beginning to think there might be," said Mrs. Hargrave.
"No," said Rosanna. "If there was a fairy godmother, just one in all the world, she would come and make my grandmother let me go out of the garden and know lots of little girls and go to school and be a Girl Scout."
Mrs. Hargrave sat thinking as she tasted her ice. Then she asked, "What are these Girl Scouts?"
"I have all the books," said Helen eagerly. "May I bring them around to show you? Then you can see just why Rosanna wants to be one. I am sure Rosanna could not be hurt by knowing a lot of little girls and learning all the things that are required of the Girl Scouts."
"Why should she be hurt?" said Mrs. Hargrave.
"Why, grandmother thinks I should not go out of my class."
"Class is all right," said Mrs. Hargrave. "It is very necessary, but what you want to look for, Rosanna, isworth. Suppose Helen here was not in your own class. Suppose her father was a laboring man of some sort, and she lived away from this part of town, that wouldn't change Helen."
Helen looked up in amazement. "But my father is—"
Mrs. Hargrave interrupted. "I will tell you what I will do, Rosanna, I will talk to your grandmother myself if she makes any objections to your going to school and all the rest." She rose as shespoke, and they wandered out to the rose garden where coffee was served for Mrs. Hargrave and where the children offered their gifts.
When she went home at last, she put an arm around each child. "This is the happiest birthday I have had. Good-night, and thank you! I will help you all I can, Rosanna, and I feel very sure, Helen, that your savings or the fairy godmother will take you to college with Rosanna. Two little girls as nice and sweet and well-bred as you ought to be friends all your lives."
She kissed them both and, carrying her presents, went down the steps leaning on the arm of her servant.
"I feel full of a happy sadness," Rosanna sighed. "I don't see why, do you?"
"No," said Helen, "only that she is so perfectly lovely. She is just as though there was two parts to her. The outside pretty, but old and wrinkled and kind of high and grand, while there is somebody just too sweet, and real young and dancy and loving on the inside. And the inside one can never grow old at all, but will go right on understanding how you feel, and when the outside gets too old to last any longer, why, she will just go and be a young, young angel."
"I guess that's it," said Rosanna. "But what a fuss there is about class and position and where you were born, isn't there?"
"Yes," said Helen. "When she was talkingabout workingmen I tried to tell her about my father working for your grandmother."
"Yes, she interrupted you," said Rosanna. "I don't see as it makes any difference what he does. No matter whatanybody thinks, Helen, we are going to be friends? You promised me that."
"Of course," said Helen.
"Well, it was a nice party, wasn't it, Helen? I think Mrs. Hargrave did truly have a good time."
When Helen went home that night she was very quiet. Her mother thought she was tired, but Helen was thinking. She loved Mrs. Hargrave dearly, and she wanted her to know some things that she evidently was all mixed up about.
The following morning she did not go over to see Rosanna. Instead she dressed with even greater care than usual and went slowly around to Mrs. Hargrave's, where she found her in a bright little morning room, sitting before a large desk.
"I wanted to tell you something," said Helen, "and I am going to get it all mixed up. I sort of have the feeling thateverythingis mixed up and that I am doing something that is not quite right. So I came over to you. I didn't even tell mother because I was afraid it would worry her. You seeshedoesn't understand either."
"Dear me, how mysterious!" said Mrs. Hargrave.
"It is like this," said Helen, plunging into the middle. "You have been so good to me that Iwant to tell you that I am not one of the Culvers of Lee County or any other county. I am just the plainest sort of a little girl. I have the nicest father and mother in the whole world, but they are poor, and my father does work. He works for Mrs. Horton; he is her chauffeur, and we live in the apartment over the garage.
"What will she say, Mrs. Hargrave, when she knows what a plain little girl I am? I thought I would come and tell you about it. I don't see what difference being poor makes if one tries to be nice inside, do you?"
"No," cried Mrs. Hargrave. "It makes no difference at all. Don't let anyone make you think that. And your coming to tell me this shows me just what sort of a child you are," and she kissed Helen.
"Now, let's get this thing all straight as far as you understand it, my dear, and then I will tell you what I think about it."
So for a long time they sat together, Helen's hand in Mrs. Hargrave's while Helen told all about herself and her friendship with Rosanna, and Mrs. Hargrave chuckled when she thought of her letters to Mrs. Horton and how she had innocently misled her.
Rosanna had just finished her luncheon that very same day, when she heard Minnie talking to someone over the telephone. Minnie, seeing Rosanna behind her, merely said yes and no and hung up as soon as she could.
"What are you planning to do, Miss Rosanna?" she asked.
"This afternoon?" said Rosanna. "Well, Helen is coming over with her mother and we are going to sit on the porch of the playhouse and sew. Helen and I are going to make a couple of rompers for Baby Christopher. Helen and her mother went over to see Gwenny the other day, and Mrs. Culver says that baby actually has nothing to put on. And there is no money to buy anything with because Gwenny has had to have a new brace that cost thirty dollars. Oh, Minnie, will I be rich when I grow up?"
"Yes, you will," said Minnie.
"How much; millions?" wistfully.
"A good lot anyhow," said Minnie.
"Oh, I am so glad!" said Rosanna. "I am going to make so many people happy with it. There is such a lot of things you can do with money, Minnie, to help people. I was so sorry when I heard about that brace. I am going to save more of my allowance after this and keep listening so I will hear when somebody wants something like that. Only there are some things that you can't buy with money. I couldn't buy Helen, could I? And I couldn't buy Mrs. Hargrave."
Minnie started.
"No, dearie, you couldn't," she said. "And I have got to trot along now because I have to go out this afternoon, and if Mrs. Culver and Helen are coming over, I know you will be all right."
Rosanna found her little workbasket and, taking a book to read until her guests came, went over to the playhouse and commenced rocking in one of the little wicker chairs.
Minnie dressed carefully but plainly and went out. Rosanna would have been much surprised if she had seen her hurry down the street and turn into Mrs. Hargrave's big house.
Mrs. Hargrave was waiting for her and after a kindly greeting she said: "Minnie, I want you to tell me all about this Culver family, and how Rosanna found Helen, and how they happen to be such good friends, and how it is that you allowed it when you know just how Mrs. Horton feels about family and all that."
Minnie did not flinch.
"I have been wanting to come and tell you all about it," she said, "but I thought that you wouldfind out things from the children. Mrs. Horton just won't let Rosanna knowanychildren at all. But I don't feel like saying all I would like to say, seeing how I work for Mrs. Horton."
"You would free your mind, I reckon, if you were at your own home, wouldn't you?"
"Yes, ma'am, I would!" said Minnie.
"Well, then," said Mrs. Hargrave, "suppose you and I talk as though we were just a couple of human beings who want to do a kind turn for two little girls. That Helen child was over here this morning, to tell me that she was afraid I thought she belonged to some fine family like the Culvers of Lee County. Lee County indeed! Those Culvers are scalawags, every man of them! She is lucky she doesn't own one of them for a father.
"And the honest little angel was afraid I would be disappointed when I found out who she really is. Well, Minnie, I was never so pleased with a child in my life! I am going to do something for her some day.
"Now I want to hear from you just how this friendship started. It seems a letter that I wrote to Mrs. Horton put the seal on it and I want to know where we all stand."
"Whatever we do there is going to be an awful fuss," said Minnie, sighing. She sat on the edge of the chair facing Mrs. Hargrave and told that lady more of Rosanna's lonely, friendless little life than Mrs. Hargrave had ever guessed. She told her ofthe difference in Rosanna since Helen had come, and her fears for the child if Mrs. Horton should come back and forbid their friendship.
"I shall just leave!" concluded Minnie.
"Don't be an idiot!" said Mrs. Hargrave, frowning. "That would be a nice thing to do with Rosanna heartbroken. Now, Minnie, all there is to this is that Mrs. Horton years and years ago had a younger sister who eloped with a no-account man whom she met when she visited his sister. They were really very common people, and Mrs. Horton's little sister died of a broken heart.
"When Mrs. Horton married, her children were boys, as you know, and she carried her bitterness in her heart until her son's little orphan girl came to live with her. She is making a great mistake with Rosanna and she must somehow be made to see it before it is too late. But that is the reason for her foolishness.
"She adored her little sister, and she adores Rosanna. I am sorry the affair is so mixed up, but you just leave it to me. In the meantime do just as you are doing and give the girls all the chance you can to have a good time. I will stand back of little Helen if I have to adopt her. I suppose her parents are healthy?"
Minnie giggled. "Yes, ma'am; healthy and real young."
"Well, well, there must be some other way then," said Mrs. Hargrave, smiling. "To start, I willwrite Mrs. Horton a letter just before she returns, and I think a heart-to-heart talk will arrange things nicely."
In the meantime, Mrs. Culver had helped the girls cut out two sets of dark, comfortable rompers, and Rosanna had sewed them up on her little machine.
Mrs. Culver was also making a romper for Baby Christopher. Hers was a cunning one for Sunday, a little pink check with bands of plain pink, and buttons nearly as big as tea saucers sewed on wherever a button would go.
Mrs. Culver was a wise woman, and she knew that Baby Christopher, small as he was, would have a good effect on his many brothers and sisters if he could be made beautiful and dressy on the one day in the week when the busy family had time to enjoy his cunning ways. So Christopher was to have three rompers—good, new, beautiful rompers of his own.
While Mrs. Culver sat thinking the two girls talked about the opening of the Girl Scout troop in the school Helen was to enter in the fall.