The Rosie World Part 25

George laughed. "Aw, let the papers go blow! Anyway, can't Janet McFadden take them?"

Rosie appealed to Terry. "Can she, Terry?"

Terry nodded. "Sure she can. Don't you worry about those papers. Me and Janet'll get on all right. You take Geraldine and skip off and stay away as long as Mis' Riley wants you."

George spread out his hands. "So you see, Rosie, everything's arranged.

You're to start tomorrow on the eleven----"

"But, Jarge, wait a minute! We can't start tomorrow 'cause our things aren't ready. A whole lot of Geraldine's clothes and mine, too, got to be washed."

"Can't you take 'em with you and wash 'em in the country?"

"Oh, Jarge!" The suggestion was evidently a horrible one, for Mrs.

O'Brien and Rosie spoke together.

George looked troubled. "But, Rosie, you got to start tomorrow. Didn't I tell you that dad and Billy are going to drive down to meet you?"

Mrs. O'Brien stood up. "Make your mind easy, Jarge. Rosie'll be ready on time. I'll go in this minute and do that was.h.i.+n' now, and the things'll be all dry and ready for ironin' by early mornin'."

Rosie gasped. "Why, Ma, it's going on ten o'clock!"

"Rosie dear, I don't care what o'clock it's going on. If it's the last mortal thing I ever do for you, I'm going to do that was.h.i.+n' tonight, for, if I do say it, ye're the best child that ever trod shoe-leather."

Jamie O'Brien's tilted chair came down on the porch floor with a thud, while Jamie remarked solemnly: "You're right, Maggie; she is!"

Mrs. O'Brien moved toward the door. "Come on, Rosie dear, and help me gather the things."

Rosie started up, then paused to glance from one to another of them. In the soft glow of the summer night she could see that they were all looking at her with the same expression of love and tenderness. Rosie choked. "I don't see why--everybody's--so kind--to me!"

She turned back to George. "And I've been just horrible to you, Jarge!

You'll forgive me, won't you? I guess it was the weather."

"Aw, go on!" George spoke with a gruffness that deceived n.o.body. "I guess it's been the weather with all of us!"

CHAPTER XXIII

HOME AGAIN

George Riley protested vigorously: "But I tell you she's only a little girl and she's got a baby and a big basket and I don't know how many other things and some one's just got to help her!"

With anxious headshakes Terence and Janet McFadden corroborated all George Riley said, but the gatekeeper was firm. "Only pa.s.sengers this side the fence," he repeated.

So the three friends had to wait while the long train slowly disgorged.

Terence stood guard on one side of the gate, George Riley on the other, while Janet pressed a tense searching face through the bars of the high division fence. The first arrivals were the dapper quick young men with new leather bags and walking-sticks who, in their eagerness to arrive, always drop off a train before it stops. After them came more men and the more agile of the women pa.s.sengers. Then the general rush and crush: the fussy people laden down with parcels; old ladies struggling to protect their small handbags from the a.s.saults of porters; distracted mothers jerking their broods. .h.i.ther and thither; middle-aged men murmuring to wives and daughters, "No rus.h.!.+ No rus.h.!.+ Plenty of time!"

"Maybe she missed the train!" Janet McFadden suggested tragically.

The crush subsided, the last stragglers pa.s.sed through the gate, and then, just as Janet remarked gloomily, "Well, I was perfectly sure she wasn't coming!" a little girl with a baby in her arms alighted from a coach far down the track and stood where she was while the conductor piled the ground about her with boxes and parcels and baskets innumerable.

"There she is! There she is!" Janet and Terence cried out together.

The gatekeeper looked at them a little less sternly. "Well, I guess you can come in now."

Janet dashed through the gate with her arms raised high, calling out a joyful "Rosie! Rosie!" George Riley and Terence followed close on her heels, and in a moment Rosie and the baby were enveloped in a cloud of hugs and kisses.

"Oh!" Rosie gasped, "but it's nice to be back! And I'm so glad to see you all!... Here, Jarge, you take that heavy box and be awful careful.

It has jelly in it and canned fruit and I made them all myself, too!

Your mother taught me how.... You take the big basket, Terry. That's our clothes. And I think you can take the basket of vegetables in the other hand. Janet'll take that bundle, won't you, Janet? They's two dressed chickens in it and I plucked them myself, too. Mis' Riley showed me how.

And you take the shoe-box, Janet. It's full of cookies. Hold it straight so's not to break them.... I'll take that last basket in my other hand.

You can't guess what's in it, can they, Geraldine? It's Geraldine's little p.u.s.s.y cat! We just couldn't leave it, could we, baby? Geraldine named it herself. She named it Jarge."

"After me, I suppose," George said, and they all laughed as if this were a mighty fine joke.

"Now are we ready?" Rosie asked, making a quick count of bundles and baskets. "I'm not leaving anything, am I?"

George groaned. "I should hope not! Tell you one thing: I can't carry any more. Say, Rosie, what have you filled your jelly gla.s.ses with?

Rocks?"

This was another fine joke and it carried them out of the station and all the way to the cars.

"Now watch me play the Rube," George whispered with a wink. When the conductor came for their fares, George fumbled in his pocket, counted the change laboriously, then asked for an impossible transfer. The conductor tried patiently to explain, at which George slapped him on the shoulder and roared out: "Aw, go on! I'm a railroad man myself!" At this everybody laughed and the conductor and George became friends on the spot.

At the home corner, small Jack was waiting and, before Rosie was fairly off the car, he was calling out excitedly: "h.e.l.lo, Rosie! h.e.l.lo! What did you bring me from the country?"

"Oh, you darling Jackie! I'm so glad to see you!" Rosie kissed him on both cheeks, then answered his question. "A little turtle! It's in a box at the bottom of the vegetable basket that Terry's carrying."

Jack danced up and down in delight. "Oh, Rosie, can't I have it now?

Please!"

"No, no, Jackie, you must wait till we get home."

"Aw, Rosie, all right for you!" Jack looked at her reproachfully, then shouted out: "Come on! Come on! Let's hurry home!"

At home Mrs. O'Brien and Jamie were waiting for them with outstretched arms.

"Ah, Rosie," her mother exclaimed, with fluttering hands and streaming eyes; "I'm that glad to see you, I'm weepin'! And will ye look at wee Geraldine as fat and smilin' as a suckin' pig! Ah, Geraldine darlint, come to yir own ma!"

Jamie O'Brien, less demonstrative than his wife, patted Rosie's head gently. "It's mighty glad I am to have you back. Why, do you know, Rosie, since you've been gone there hasn't been a soul in the house to hand me a pipe of an evening!"

"You poor old Dad!" Rosie began sympathetically. She would have said more but small Jack interrupted.

"Now, Rosie, give me my turtle! You promised you would!"

"Of course I did," Rosie acknowledged, "and I'll get it for you right now. Here, Terry, let me have the vegetable basket." Rosie thrust her hands among the onions and cabbages and drew out a small pasteboard box generously pierced with air holes.