Mary Rose of Mifflin | Page 6

girls' clothes are beautiful. All my life I've wanted a white dress
with lace on it and a blue sash. Gladys Evans has one. She wore it at
the church social. I spoke a piece and I had to wear these ugly clothes.
It hurt my pride awful but daddy said that was because I didn't look at it
right, that if I had the right kind of an eye I'd see washing in a white
dress instead of beauty. But I guess it's hard to see right when you
haven't ever had anything but boys' clothes. Oh, Aunt Kate!" she put
her arms around her aunt. "I do think that it is good of you to want me
to live with you. You're the only relation I have out of Heaven. I don't
quite understand about that, when Gladys Evans has four sisters and a
brother and three aunts and two uncles and a pair of grandfathers and
even one grandmother. It doesn't seem just fair, does it? But I think
you're nicer than all of hers put together. One of her aunts is cross-eyed
and another lives in California and one of her uncles is stingy," she
whispered. "You--you're beautiful!" And she hugged her again.
Mrs. Donovan dropped weakly into a chair and her arms went around
Mary Rose. She had never realized how empty they had been until they
enclosed Mary Rose.
"You didn't say anything about bringing my friends with me," went on
Mary Rose happily, "but of course I couldn't leave Jenny Lind and
George Washington behind. George Washington has the same name as
your house," she gurgled. "Wouldn't you like to see him?" She slipped
from her aunt's arms to the chair where she had put her basket. There
had been sundry angry upheavals of the cover but it was tightly tied
with a stout string. Mrs. Donovan had scarcely noticed it. She had been
too bewildered to see anything but Mary Rose.

Mary Rose untied the basket cover but before she could raise it a big
maltese cat had pushed it aside and jumped to the floor and stood
stretching himself in front of Mrs. Donovan's horrified eyes.
"Mary Rose!" she cried. It was all she could say.
"Isn't he a beauty?" Mary Rose turned shining eyes to her as she patted
her pet. "I've had him ever since he was a weeny kitten. Mrs. Campbell
gave him to me when I had the tonsilitis. We adore each other. You see
his mother is dead and so is mine. We're both orphans."
And she caught the orphaned George Washington to her and hugged
him. "I've a dog, too, but I left him in Mifflin."
"Thank God for that," murmured Mrs. Donovan under her breath.
"His name is Solomon," went on Mary Rose. "He was such a wise little
puppy that daddy said he should have a wise name. The superintendent
of schools made out a list for me and I copied each one on a separate
piece of paper and let the puppy take his choice. He took Solomon and
daddy said he showed his sense for Solomon was the very wisest of all.
But that shows just how smart Solomon was even as a puppy. Jimmie
Bronson's taking care of him until I send for him. He said he'd just as
soon I never sent, but of course I will as soon as I can. Do you see
Jenny Lind, George Washington?" She took the cat's head in her hands
and turned it to the cage in which Jenny Lind hopped restlessly. "They
aren't the friends I'd like them to be," she explained almost
apologetically to her aunt. "Sometimes it worries me. Dear me, I wish I
could have a talk with Noah! Don't you often wonder how he managed
in the ark? It must have been hard with cats and mice and snakes and
birds and lions and people. Daddy thought Noah must have been a fine
animal tamer, like the one in the circus Gladys Evans' father took us to,
only better, of course. Don't you think you'll like George Washington?"
she asked timidly, rather puzzled by her aunt's silence.
"He's a beautiful cat," gulped Mrs. Donovan, who was more puzzled
than Mary Rose. What should she do? What could she do? She took
both Mary Rose and George Washington in her arms. "Listen to me,

Mary Rose, for a minute. You know your Uncle Larry is janitor of this
building?"
"It's a fine building," admiringly. "He must be awful rich."
"He isn't rich at all," hurriedly. "If he was he wouldn't be a janitor. A
janitor is the man who takes care of it----"
"Oh," Mary Rose was frankly disappointed. "I thought he owned it."
"You see other folks live here,