Rosemary

J >> Josephine Lawrence >> Rosemary

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14

"No, I'm not," returned Sarah with characteristic candor. "It's too
hot. Let 'em air till night. I want to play in the sand-box."

"Ray Anderson and me's going to play in the sand-box," said Shirley.
"You can't come--you take all the toys."

"Oh, Shirley, how cross you are!" cried Rosemary, aghast at the
frown on Shirley's pretty forehead. "Don't be so cranky, darling.
Sarah will play in one end of the box and you play in the other."

But Sarah, her nose in the air, announced that she wouldn't "have a
thing to do with the old sand-box," and she departed to sit in the
swing and read, leaving Rosemary to make the beds or "let them air"
as she decided.

Rosemary finished sweeping the porch and had just begun to make her
own bed, when her aunt called her.

"Shirley and that little Anderson boy are making so much noise, I
can't rest," Aunt Trudy complained. "I should think you could tell
them to play quietly, Rosemary. And I wish you wouldn't practise
this morning, dearie; my head is splitting and the piano does annoy
me so. This afternoon I'll take my sewing out under the tree and you
may have two hours to yourself, if you like."

Rosemary went down and suggested to Shirley and Ray that they make
sand pies instead of building a railroad, knowing from experience
that sand pies was a comparatively quiet play. Then she dusted her
beloved piano with a little lump in her throat. Mother had loved to
hear her practise and had liked to sit on summer mornings in a chair
close by, sewing and listening. Mother was an accomplished musician
and she knew and noted her little daughter's enthusiastic progress.
One reason that Rosemary practised so steadily through the warm
weather in spite of discouragement was her determination to surprise
her mother by her improvement when that dear lady came back to them.

"It's a shame you have all the beds to do, Rosemary," said Winnie,
coming up for a salve from the medicine closet in the bathroom and
discovering Rosemary wearily putting the bedrooms to rights. "I've
burned my finger on that silly hot water heater again. I've told the
doctor and told him to have the plumber stop in and fix it, but he
forgets every time."

"I'll telephone Mr. Mertz," said Rosemary absently.

"You ought to make Sarah do her part," went on Winnie, spreading
salve on a piece of gauze and binding it around her finger. "I'm
tired trying to get any help from her. And Miss Trudy wants
ice-water every minute of the day and if I don't get it for her she
comes out to the refrigerator and wastes half a block, hacking it.
Shirley wants nothing but hot breads and meat and first thing we
know she'll be sick on our hands."

Winnie sat on the edge of the bath-tub and let her mind dwell on her
woes. Rosemary tried to listen sympathetically, but she was warm and
tired and if Winnie would only go perhaps she could finish the rooms
in time to read a little before lunch. The afternoon would have to
be given over to her delayed practising.

"Well, I'm going down stairs," said Winnie, putting the salve jar
back on its shelf, "and all we're going to have for lunch is tomato
salad and bread and butter. If any one doesn't like it, they can
leave it; I'm not going to spend any time fussing with special
dishes this kind of weather."

Rosemary's practising that afternoon was interrupted several times
by the telephone, twice for the wrong number. Aunt Trudy, with the
air of a martyr, took her sewing out under the horse chestnut tree,
Sarah and Shirley went to a neighbor's to play and Winnie announced
that she intended to take a nap. So there was no one to answer the
bells except Rosemary. By the time she had jumped up to be asked "Is
this the grocery store?" once or twice, had admitted the butcher boy
with fresh meat which must be put on the ice and had been summoned
three times by Aunt Trudy to thread her needle--for glasses,
declared her aunt made her warmer in summer and she would not wear
them--Rosemary's temper was fraying sadly.

"Rosemary," said Aunt Trudy, coming into the living room as the
practise hour was about over (not allowing for time wasted, Rosemary
told herself resentfully), "Rosemary, where is Sarah?"

"I don't care where she is!" cried Rosemary, whirling around on the
piano bench. "I'm tired of always being asked where Sarah and
Shirley are. I don't care!"

Aunt Trudy burst into tears.

"I don't think you ought to speak to me like that," she sobbed.

CHAPTER X

THE LAST STRAW

Jack Welles' cheerful whistle sounded outside.

"Coming!" answered Rosemary.

She flung her arms about Aunt Trudy and gave her a penitent hug.

"I'm sorry I was cross, Auntie," she whispered. "You know I didn't
mean it."

Then she sped out the front door and joined Jack who was waiting on
the walk outside the hedge.

"Come on uptown and have a soda," he suggested. "Perhaps it will
cool you off--you look slightly wild."

"I feel wild," admitted Rosemary, falling into step beside him.
"This has been the most dreadful day!"

"Weather's enough to make anyone cross," said the boy quickly. "I'll
bet the trouble is you're doing everyone's work. Hugh ought to make
Sarah stir around. She's lazy."

"No, I don't think she is lazy," protested Rosemary, "Only, well you
know Jack, it was more fun doing the things you have to do when
Mother was home. I can't explain it very well, but I remember last
summer Sarah thought she'd wash the upstairs windows to surprise
Mother--Winnie was sick and Mother happened to say she didn't know
when in the world the windows would get cleaned. Sarah heard her and
the next day she lugged up a pail of water and a cloth and tried to
wash them. She splashed water all over the wall paper and made an
awful mess of it, but Mother kissed her and praised her and said she
was glad she had such a helpful little daughter. Aunt Trudy isn't
like that and Sarah likes to be praised for what she does. Aunt
Trudy never tells her she makes a bed well, but if there is a
wrinkle in the spread she shows her that. Sarah made the beds all
right for a long time, but now she goes off mornings and plays."

"I knew it," nodded Jack, "and Winnie has a list of troubles a mile
long waiting for you every night."

"Morning," corrected Rosemary, laughing. "Oh, Jack how do you know
so much? I don't see how I could get along without you, because
you're the only one who listens to my troubles. Hugh is a dear, but
he is so busy, and we're forbidden to write anything that will
bother Mother."

"Fire into me any time you feel like it," invited Jack, steering her
toward the drug-store steps and the soda fountain therein. "I'm
always ready to listen and if you want any punching done, just let
me know."

But the next hard day, when everything seemed to go wrong from
breakfast time to the dinner hour, no Jack was at hand to listen to
Rosemary's recital. He had gone away for a week's fishing trip with
his father.

The day started with a pitched battle between Winnie and Sarah after
breakfast, over the question of feeding the cat the top of the milk.
Sarah declared passionately that she would starve herself before she
would feed a defenseless cat skimmed milk and Winnie, with equal
fervor, had announced that when she saw herself handing over the top
milk to a cat they might send her to the insane asylum without
delay.

"You're a mean, hateful woman!" shouted Sarah, rushing out of the
kitchen and shutting the door on Shirley's finger which was too near
the crack.

Shirley screamed with pain and after Rosemary had bathed the poor
bruised finger and Winnie had comforted the child with a cookie,
Aunt Trudy declared that her nerves were too unstrung to spend the
day in such a house and that she would go to town and shop.

"That means I'll have to answer the telephone while I'm practising,"
grumbled Rosemary. "Oh, dear, how selfish everyone is! I've a good
mind to sit down and read on the porch while it is shady. All the
others do as they please and I will, too."

Her book was interesting, and there was a blessed freedom from
interruptions. Rosemary was amazed when Sarah, warm and dirty from
grubbing in the rabbit house appeared at the foot of the steps and
demanded to know if lunch was ready.

"Oh well, I'll make the beds and pick up after lunch," said Rosemary
to herself.

Shirley assumed the airs of an invalid at the lunch table and
secured large portions of meat and dessert as a concession to her
hurt finger. She ignored the vegetables entirely though the meal was
supposed to be her dinner and Doctor Hugh had given orders that she
was to be fed after certain rules.

Winnie was put out because the iceman was late and her dinner
supplies threatened to spoil and Sarah insisted on the hot-water
heater being lit so that she might have hot water in which to wash
her cat. The wrangle with Winnie over this continued throughout the
meal.

"I don't care whether you wash the cat or not," said Rosemary, when
Sarah followed her to the corner of the living-room where the piano
stood. "I'm going to practise, and don't bother me."

"Silly old music," grumbled Sarah, "come on, Shirley, let's go sail
boats in the bath-tub."

Rosemary spent the afternoon at the piano, having promised herself
that she would put in a full two hours over her music. The numerous
interruptions spun out the time so that when she finally closed the
lid the little clock on the mantelpiece chimed five.

"Good gracious, the beds aren't made!" thought Rosemary and flew up
the stairs.

One glance into the bathroom halted her and cooled her energy.
Shirley and Sarah had spent a busy afternoon, sailing boats in the
tub. They had used every clean towel in sight to mop up the puddles
on the floor and they were wet to their chins. Rosemary hustled them
off to get into clean dry clothes and then worked feverishly to
restore the room to a semblance of order. Aunt Trudy came home
before she had finished and when she saw the unmade beds and the
morning's disorder still untouched, she spoke her mind in no
uncertain terms.

"Everybody has a grouch," observed Sarah cheerfully when they sat
down to dinner. Doctor Hugh had not come in.

"Don't use that word, Sarah," reproved her aunt, sugaring a bowl of
boiled rice for Shirley.

"Don't want rice, want cutylet," said Shirley, pointing to the veal
cutlet.

"She's had enough meat to-day," interposed Winnie. "The doctor says
she shouldn't have it at all at night."

Shirley refused to touch the rice and was sitting in stately
aloofness when Doctor Hugh came in looking warm and tired.

"What's the matter?" he asked, dropping into his chair and testing
the soup Winnie instantly placed before him. Hugh was her idol and
she always managed not to keep him waiting. "Heat too much for you?"
he added.

"Grouches is what ails 'em," volunteered Sarah.

"I've asked her not to use that word, but no one pays any attention
to my wishes," sighed Aunt Trudy.

"All right, drop it, Sarah," said Doctor Hugh shortly. "Aren't you
eating to-night, sweetheart?" he asked Shirley.

"I want some cutylet," said Shirley wistfully. "I don't like rice."

"She ate nothing for her dinner but beef loaf and two helps of date
pudding," announced Winnie. "I don't know when she expects to learn
to eat sensible and like a Christian."

"Well, if Rosemary would take a little interest in the child and
coax her, she would soon learn to like vegetables," said Aunt Trudy.
"I think Shirley is left too much to herself."

Rosemary flushed, but her brother spoke before she could reply.

"You eat your rice, Shirley, or not one other thing can you have
to-night," he announced, with unusual severity, for Shirley was his
pet. "No, crying won't do you any good--eat your rice and stop
whining."

"I think you ought to know how things go when I'm not here, Hugh,"
began Aunt Trudy while Shirley ate her rice sulkily. "I was so upset
this morning that I thought I should fly if I stayed in the house,
so I went up to the city and shopped. I came in about half past five
and not one bed was made! The children's clothes lay just where
they had flung them last night. That's a nice way, isn't it?
Apparently I can not leave home for a few hours without finding
everything shirked on my return."

Rosemary's blue eyes blazed with quick anger and an unlovely look
came into her face.

"I don't care if I didn't make the beds!" she cried hotly. "I'm sick
and tired of beds and dusting and answering the telephone. You never
expect anyone in this house to do a single thing, but me!"

"Rosemary!" said Doctor Hugh.

"I don't think you should speak to me like that," asserted Aunt
Trudy on the verge of tears.

"I won't speak to you at all!" jerked Rosemary. "That's the only way
to please you."

Aunt Trudy began to cry and Doctor Hugh pushed back his plate.

"Please leave the table, Rosemary," he said distinctly. "Go into the
office and wait for me."

Rosemary rushed from the table like a whirlwind and the house shook
as she banged the office door.

"I don't care!" she raged, in the depths of the comfortable shabby
arm-chair that had been her father's. "I don't care! Aunt Trudy
always cries and it isn't fair. I suppose Hugh will be furious, but
let him. I'm so tired and so hot and so miserable--" and Rosemary
gave herself up to a passion of angry tears.

She had been crying in the dark and when the door opened and someone
switched on the light she knew it was Doctor Hugh. She slipped down
from the chair and walked around back of the desk. He took the
swivel chair and glanced at her half-averted face gravely.

"Rosemary," he said gently, "how would you like to ride over to
Bennington with me to-morrow? They're opening the new hospital and I
half promised to go. We'll be gone all the morning and it will make
a little change for you."

Bennington was the county seat, twenty miles away. It should be
delightful not to have anything to do the next morning but put on a
clean frock and go with Hugh. He might even let her drive the car a
few minutes at a time on a straight stretch of road--Rosemary found
her tongue.

"Oh, Hugh, I'd love it!" she said enthusiastically.

"All right, so should I," he smiled. "I think you need a bit of
pleasure. Things going rather hard for you, dear?"

Rosemary nodded, a lump in her throat surprising her. She had
expected Hugh to be angry and to scold. Instead he was very gentle.

"I'm sorry," he said, "Very sorry. You miss Mother, I know; we all
do. But I think you are learning a good deal this summer without
her. I've been watching you, and you are more self-reliant and
capable every day. Several people have spoken to me about the way
you answer the 'phone and the intelligent answers you give them. I
don't know what I should do without you."

Rosemary flushed with pleasure. Then, being Rosemary, she flung
herself headlong at her brother, narrowly missing his glasses.

"Oh, Hugh! Hugh dear, I _am_ sorry I acted so to-night!" she wept.

"There, there," he patted her gently. "You didn't mean to be cross,
we all know that. You were tired and so was Aunt Trudy. I guess this
heat has about worn everybody out. I tried to warn you, but the
fireworks had to blaze up. Now kiss me, like my sweet girl, for I'm
going out again, and then make your peace with Aunt Trudy. And
to-morrow morning we'll leave dull care behind us and enjoy
ourselves for a few hours."

"Shirley would love to go," suggested Rosemary.

"All right, I thought you ought to leave the cares behind, but we'll
take Shirley if you say so," was the answer.

CHAPTER XI

A CHAIN OF PROMISES

The "hot spell" broke that night and the morning was deliciously
cool and fresh. This delightful state of weather continued for
several days and was immediately reflected in the changed temper of
the Willis household and, it is safe to say, in many other Eastshore
households since we are all more or less affected by weather
conditions.

Aunt Trudy, who really was miserable under excessive heat revived
and insisted on giving a birthday party for Shirley who was six
years old on the third of August, and Rosemary and Sarah pleased and
touched the good lady by their assurances that it was the nicest
child's party ever given in the town. Shirley took her good fortune
complacently and was heard to remark that she wished school would
open the next day because now she was old enough to go.

The day after the party Aunt Trudy decided to "run into the city"
for her new glasses and some special errands. She left soon after
breakfast and would, she informed Winnie, return on the 5:48 train
that afternoon.

It was the day for Rosemary's music lesson and she went, at two
o'clock, to her teacher's house. The lesson over, she took a book
back to the Library for Aunt Trudy, bought some clothespins for
Winnie and meeting Jack Welles, brown and freckled from his fishing
trip, accepted his invitation to stop at the hardware store and see
the prize trout his father had caught and which was mounted and on
exhibition in the window. So it was nearly half past four when she
reached home.

"Rosemary!" a shrill whisper came down to her over the bannisters,
as she went upstairs to leave the book she had selected for Aunt
Trudy on the table in her room. "Rosemary, come up here, quick!"

Rosemary, vaguely frightened, ran up to Sarah's room. Shirley was
there and both little girls looked as though they had been crying.

"What's the matter--did Shirley hurt herself?" asked Rosemary in
alarm.

Sarah shut the door and looked at her older sister queerly.

"Promise you won't tell? Cross-your-heart-hope-to-die?" she urged.

Rosemary sat down on the bed.

"Is it good or bad?" she asked cautiously.

"Bad!" cried Shirley in an awe-struck tone. "Awfully bad. Isn't it,
Sarah?"

Sarah nodded hopelessly.

"It's so bad," she declared, "that you never heard anything as bad.
And if you tell, Rosemary, I'll run away, as far off as I can run
away, and never, never come back."

Sarah's dark eyes were red-rimmed and she seemed so desperately
unhappy that Rosemary's kind heart was touched.

"Oh, Sarah darling, you know I won't tell!" she exclaimed. "I don't
care what it is, I won't tell anyone. I promise."

Sarah drew a long breath of relief. She sat down on the floor, her
favorite resting place, and Shirley scrambled down beside her.

"Well then," said Sarah more calmly, "I've lost Aunt Trudy's
turquoise ring!"

"You've lost Aunt Trudy's turquoise ring!" repeated Rosemary. "How
on earth could you lose her ring?"

"We were playing with the jewel case," murmured Sarah, a dark red
flush rising under her brown skin.

"Sarah Eaton Willis! And after what Hugh told you!" Rosemary stared
at the culprit in astonishment.

For Aunt Trudy's jewel case, containing numerous rings and pins of
no inconsiderable value and for which she cared little beyond the
pleasure of possession seldom, if ever, wearing any of the pieces,
had delighted Sarah and Shirley from the first moment they
discovered it. Their aunt had indulgently allowed them to deck
themselves out and play "lady" and apparently the idea that anything
could happen to a valuable brooch or ring or a string of pearls, or
cut amber beads be lost, never occurred to her. It occurred to
Doctor Hugh, however, when he came home unexpectedly one afternoon
and met Sarah and Shirley arrayed in barbaric splendor. He had
immediately forbidden further play with the jewelry and, at his
orders, Aunt Trudy had placed the case among the list of things on
her dresser which must not be touched.

"I didn't think Aunt Trudy would care if we played with her rings a
little while this afternoon," said Sarah uneasily, "We were going
to put everything back, weren't we, Shirley? I had the ring on and
Winnie called me to go get a cake of yeast--she's always wanting me
to run errands. And when I came back the ring was gone off my finger
and we hunted everywhere and we couldn't find it. So it must be
lost," wound up the small sinner.

"I don't believe you have half looked," protested Rosemary. "Where
did you go after you bought the yeast cake? Straight home? Well,
I'll go look all the way to the store and back, and you and Shirley
look everywhere in the house you can think of."

"You won't tell, will you, Rosemary?" coaxed Sarah. "Hugh will be so
mad, but Aunt Trudy won't mind. She never wears any of her rings."

"Of course I won't tell," said Rosemary impatiently. "I promised.
But you hurry and put the rest of the things back in the case and
put it on Aunt Trudy's dresser, Sarah. And then look all over the
house."

Rosemary searched every step of the way to the grocery store where
Sarah had gone to buy the yeast cake, and all the way back, but with
no result. The two little girls reported that they had looked
"everywhere" in the house, but no ring had obligingly turned up.
Aunt Trudy came home, apparently saw nothing wrong with the orderly
array of articles on her dresser, and dinner was a comfortable meal
if three of the five present were a little more silent than usual.

That night, when they were getting ready for bed, Rosemary announced
that she had a plan. She had offered to go to bed when Sarah went
and the surprised and pleased Aunt Trudy had told Doctor Hugh that
she was sure the girls were learning to like an early bedtime hour.

"If the ring is lost, it is lost, and that is all there is to it,"
said Rosemary, sitting on Sarah's bed to brush her hair, a habit she
still clung to though the bobbed locks were quickly made ready for
the night. "And there is only one thing to do, that I can see: buy
Aunt Trudy another."

"Buy her a ring!" gasped Sarah. "We can't--we haven't any money. And
Hugh won't give it to us, unless we tell him what it's for. How much
does a turquoise ring cost, Rosemary?"

"I don't know," admitted Rosemary. "A great deal, I suppose. I'll
have to earn it, because I am the oldest. And Sarah you'll have to
let me tell Jack Welles, because I want to ask him how I can earn
some money."

"Aunt Trudy won't know the ring is lost," argued Sarah. "She never
looks at 'em--she says she doesn't."

"That has nothing to do with it," replied Rosemary earnestly. "When
you lose a thing, you try to replace it--that's what Mother says. Do
you care if I tell Jack, Sarah?"

"No, but he mustn't tell Hugh," Sarah insisted.

The next morning Rosemary seized an opportunity while Jack was
trimming the dividing hedge, to confide the story of the lost ring,
first swearing him to secrecy.

"And now you have to tell me how I can earn money to buy Aunt Trudy
another ring," she said anxiously.

Jack whistled in perplexity.

"I think you ought to tell Hugh," he said at once. "A ring like that
must cost a lot--Aunt Trudy wouldn't have any make-believe stones.
You can't earn money without he finds it out and then there will be
a pretty row. Hasn't Sarah enough backbone to face the music?"

"Well, you see if she had only played with the jewel case after Hugh
told her not to, that would be bad enough," explained Rosemary. "But
she played with it and lost a ring and Hugh will scold dreadfully
if he finds that out. I promised not to tell and so did you, Jack."

"Yes, I did, and I'm sorry I ever made such a fool promise," said
Jack crossly. "I don't see how you can earn any money, Rosemary.
There is nothing for you to do."

Rosemary was sure she could think of something and that afternoon
she hailed Jack triumphantly.

"I've got it!" she called, running down to the hedge where he was
raking out the trimmings left from the morning's work. "I know what
I can do, Jack. I heard Mrs. Dunning tell Aunt Trudy the other day
that she would give anything if she could get someone to stay with
her baby while she went to the card club meetings Tuesday
afternoons. I can take care of the baby!"

"What do you know about taking care of people's babies?" demanded
Jack with scorn.

"I know how, if they are not very little ones," Rosemary assured
him. "The Dunning baby is old enough to walk. I am going to get a
baby to take care of every afternoon and that will be a whole lot of
money every week!"

"What will Aunt Trudy say?" asked Jack pointedly.

"She won't know--she takes a nap half the afternoon, and I'll ask
the babies' mothers to keep it a secret," planned Rosemary. "I won't
say I am going to surprise Aunt Trudy with a present, but they'll
think I am saving up for her birthday or something, perhaps."

"You see, you've started to deceive folks already," argued Jack,
"and you know if Hugh ever finds out what you are doing he will be
raging. Hadn't you better tell him, Rosemary, or get Sarah to own
up?"

"She won't--I did try," admitted Rosemary. "Sarah is scared to death
of what Hugh will say. No, I have to get another ring for Aunt Trudy
and then, maybe, we can let her know the old one is lost."

In spite of Jack's opposition, Rosemary persisted in carrying out
her plan for earning money. As she had said, she had nearly the
whole of every afternoon to herself for Aunt Trudy took a long nap
and Doctor Hugh rarely came home between one and six. She called on
the mothers of young babies and in many instances was eagerly
welcomed. A great many women wanted to leave their youngsters with
some one for an hour or two in the afternoon and Rosemary had a
"natural way" with children, to quote Winnie. The babies took to
her at first sight and in a few days Rosemary was able to announce
to the disgruntled Jack that she had "work" for every afternoon in
the week.

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14