Part 12 (1/2)

Grandma Johnson had been called several names since she had been in the Was.h.i.+ngton. Once she had heard Hilda in the kitchen speak of her as ”the old hen” and had almost had apoplexy. And Larry Donovan had muttered that she was ”an old crank” which was what one might expect of a mannerless janitor but no one had ever called her a fairy G.o.dmother.

It sounded rather pleasant. She actually smiled as Mary Rose ran over to the popcorn wagon on the corner and came back with a bag of peanuts.

”What wouldn't I give if Tom had a girl like that!” she sighed. ”But then he'd have to move. Children aren't allowed in the Was.h.i.+ngton.”

Mary Rose insisted on an exact division of the nuts. ”You want to feed them just as much as I do.” She hadn't a doubt of that. ”So you must have half. When the squirrel sees how many we have perhaps he'll bring his brothers and sisters and have a squirrel party,” she giggled.

Indeed, it did seem as if the squirrel had sent out invitations when he saw the heap of nuts that Mary Rose and Grandma Johnson had beside them for, one after another, other squirrels came until half a dozen cl.u.s.tered around them. They were very tame. One even climbed up Mary Rose's arm for the nut she held between her lips and Grandma Johnson lured another to her shoulder.

”Aren't they ducks?” Mary Rose demanded. A red poppy blossomed in each of her cheeks and her eyes were lit with candles. ”I do believe the Lord sent them here to be pets for people who live in houses where there's a law against dogs and cats and children. I think it was--it was wonderful in Him! Don't you? Shall we come every day and feed them? Then they'll really get acquainted with us and we'll be friends.

Oh, I'm so glad that I know you--that we know each other!” She threw her arms around the startled Grandma Johnson and gave her another hug.

They met Mrs. Schuneman on the steps when they went home and Mary Rose had to stop and tell her the wonderful news, that the Lord had put pets in the park for people who couldn't have them in their homes. She introduced Grandma Johnson and Mrs. Schuneman, who had looked at each other furtively when they had met in the halls but who had never spoken until now.

”It's just as well not to make friends with the people who live in the same apartment house you do,” young Mrs. Johnson had told Grandma when she came to make her home with her son. ”You can't tell who they are.”

”You can tell they are human beings,” Mother Johnson had muttered but that was not enough for her daughter-in-law and the older woman had been too depressed by the strangeness of everything about her to make friends for herself.

She even hesitated now when Mary Rose's inquiry after the health of Germania brought an invitation to step in and see how much at home Germania was. But in Mary Rose's opinion one could not refuse such an invitation and she drew Grandma Johnson in to admire and to exclaim over Germania, who did seem very contented. They had a very pleasant little visit and Mrs. Schuneman eagerly asked them both to come again.

Mother Johnson gathered courage to say she would, she'd be glad to.

”Haven't we had a gorgeous time?” Mary Rose asked as they went up the stairs. ”I think it's very kind of you to let me go walking with you.

I'm so glad the doctor said you needed exercise.”

And Grandma Johnson smiled and patted the small shoulder. There was not a trace of the old peevishness on her face which was like a withered apple. ”I don't know but I'm glad, too, Mary Rose. I'll see you tomorrow.”

”You certainly will. Won't the squirrels be glad to see us? Good-by.”

She ran down the stairs with the ten cents in her hand. The coin dropped on the landing and rolled away. She was looking for it when Mr. Wells came up and almost walked over her. Mary Rose was on her feet in a flash.

”Good morning,” she said politely. ”I'm looking for the dime I dropped. I earned it walking with Grandma Johnson. We had the grandest time in the park. Did you know that there are pets there for people who can't have them in their homes? They're squirrels and the Lord put them there. Oh, here's my dime. Good-by.” And she ran on while Mr. Wells stood and stared after her as if he thought he or she had lost their wits and he was not sure which.

He went on up and met Larry Donovan.

”Donovan,” he said sharply. ”I thought children were not allowed in this building?”

”No more they are, Mr. Wells,” Larry tried to speak pleasantly.

”There's a clause in every lease that says so.”

”Then why do you allow a child to run all over the place?” Mr. Wells wanted to know and he scowled fiercely.

Larry straightened himself and a dull red crept up into his face. ”If you mean my niece by your remarks,” he said stiffly, ”she isn't a child. She's--she's,” he stumbled, ”she's goin' on fourteen.”

”She has a long time to go before she ever reaches fourteen,” grimly.

”Do Brown and Lawson know you have a child living with you?”

”They do not.” Larry's tone was as short and crisp as pie crust.

”H-m,” was all Mr. Wells said to that but he looked at Larry before he went into his apartment and slammed the door.

”The ol' chimpanzee 'll tell Brown an' Lawson,” Uncle Larry told Aunt Kate when he came down and found her in the bedroom. ”That's what he'll do. He's goin' to complain about Mary Rose.”