Part 22 (1/2)

CHAPTER XX

Mary Rose had decided to write a letter. The more she thought of what she had heard her Aunt Kate say to her Uncle Larry that Sunday morning the less she liked it. She would write to the owner of the Was.h.i.+ngton, to the man who made laws so that children and cats and dogs were not allowed in his house, and tell him just how it was; and then, why, of course, he would say it was all right, that Uncle Larry could stay and she could stay, and everything would be as it was except for Jenny Lind. Her lip quivered as she tried hard to remember that the Lord had his eye on Jenny Lind.

She had a box of paper of her own with cunning Kewpie figures across the top of each sheet. Miss Carter had given it to her one day when Mary Rose told her of a letter she had received from Gladys. The letter to the owner of the Was.h.i.+ngton was not as easy to write as the answer to Gladys' note had been. She screwed her face into a frowning knot as she tried to think what it was best for her to say.

DEAR MR. OWNER: [That much was easy.]

This letter is from Mary Rose Crocker, who lives in the cellar of your Was.h.i.+ngton house. I mean the bas.e.m.e.nt. We call them cellars in Mifflin where I used to live, but in Waloo they are bas.e.m.e.nts. Uncle Larry said you have a law that won't let children live in your house.

I don't understand that, for there have always been children. Adam and Eve had them and most everybody but George Was.h.i.+ngton. He never did.

Is that why you named your house after him? My mother died when I was a tweenty baby and my father is in Heaven with her, too, and I had to leave Solomon, he's my dog, in Mifflin and board out my cat, but he's self-supporting now and my bird has been stolen, so there isn't anyone but just me in the cellar. I mean bas.e.m.e.nt. Aunt Kate and Uncle Larry are my only relatives on earth and if I don't live with them I'll have to go to an orphan's home, which I shouldn't like at all. But if you won't let Uncle Larry keep his job and me, too, of course I'll have to go. I'll try and not make any noise and be quiet and good if you'll please let me stay and please, please, I'm getting less of a child every day. When I came I was going on eleven and now I'm almost going on twelve, for my birthday is in two months. Aunt Kate doesn't know I'm writing to you. Neither does Uncle Larry. I thought of it all myself when I heard Uncle Larry tell Aunt Kate you were going to take his job away if I lived with them. I know I shouldn't have listened, but I did. Perhaps you've never been an orphan and don't know what it means to have all your parents in Heaven when Gladys Evans has twenty-seven relations here on earth. But I shall be much obliged if you won't take Uncle Larry's job away from him and if you'll let me live with him. G.o.d bless you and me.

Your obedient servant and friend, MARY ROSE CROCKER.

It was a long letter and quite covered two sheets of Kewpie paper.

There were many blots and more misspelled words. Mary Rose frowned as she looked at it. It was the best she could do. She was uncertain how to get it to the owner and she did not wish to ask her uncle. Mr.

Jerry could tell her. He knew everything. And holding the closely written sheets in her hand she ran across the alley.

Fortunately Mr. Jerry was alone under the apple tree. She handed him the letter and watched his face anxiously while he read it.

”Is it all right?” she begged. She had George Was.h.i.+ngton cuddled in her arms and hid her face against his soft fur coat as she asked. ”I know the words aren't spelled right but I'm only in the sixth grade.

Perhaps I should have put that in? But is the meaning right?”

Mr. Jerry coughed twice before he answered. ”Just right, Mary Rose.

Exactly right! I couldn't have done it better and I've been to college. Write on the envelope: 'To the Owner of the Was.h.i.+ngton' and I'll take it over to the agents myself.”

”Oh, will you!” Mary Rose had been puzzled how to get it to the agents. She decided then and there that she would never be puzzled over anything again. Mr. Jerry could do everything. First he had taken her cat and then her dog and her friend from Mifflin and now her letter. Her heart was filled with a pa.s.sionate devotion to him as she laughed tremulously. She was both proud and happy to possess such a resourceful friend. ”Don't you think Mr. Owner sounds a little more respectful? You see,” her voice shook, for it meant so much to her, ”I don't know him at all. I've never had any chance to make friends with him.”

With Mr. Jerry's fountain pen she wrote carefully: ”Mr. Owner of the Was.h.i.+ngton.”

Then she folded the letter smoothly and dropped a kiss on it before she put it in the envelope.

”Just for friendliness,” she said when she met Mr. Jerry's eyes and she blushed. Even her ears turned into pink roses.

He caught her in his arms and hugged her.

”Mary Rose,” he said and his voice was not quite clear, ”you're absolutely the friendliest soul I know!”

”That's what I try to be, Mr. Jerry.” Her arm slipped up about his neck. ”Daddy said I was to be friendly and the friendlier I was the easier it would be.”

CHAPTER XXI

Mary Rose loved her school. It was too delightful to be with children again and she made new friends rapidly. After supper she liked to run up to the third floor and tell Miss Thorley and Miss Carter what a wonderful day she had had and they always seemed glad to hear. She often found Mr. Strahan there and generally there were grapes or pears or peaches or candy to nibble while she told her tale.

Mr. Strahan had written a lot of stories out of Mary Rose's experiences and he grinned with delight as he heard her talk of school. He saw her as a mine of human interest tales.

”If it hadn't been for her I'd never have kept my job this summer,” he told Miss Carter and Miss Thorley, one night after Mary Rose had gone.

”The old man liked the stuff she told me and it gave me a chance to show what I could do. I've a regular run now and a regular salary.”