The Rosie World Part 49

Rosie nodded slowly. "Do you know, Danny, I never thought of that before." She ruminated a moment. "Really and truly it just seems like every girl in the world ought to have a good education. I always did think that ignorant mothers were awful and they are, too."

"You're right, Rosie, they are. They're a hindrance to their children instead of a help."

Rosie took a deep breath. "Wouldn't it just be wonderful to have a baby really and truly your own?" She gazed off into s.p.a.ce. Then her expression changed. "But, Danny, I'll never marry."

"Is that so?" Danny started to laugh, then checked himself.

"You see, Danny, it's this way: Maybe you're right. Maybe I am in love with Jarge. Anyway, I know I'll never love anybody else half as much as I love him."

"If that's the case," Danny remarked casually, "the only thing for you to do is to marry Jarge."

"Danny!" Rosie looked at him reproachfully. "I don't think it's kind of you to make fun of me that way. I know I'm only a kid."

"I didn't mean to marry him this minute," Danny explained. "I expected you to take your time about it--after you had finished school and were grown up and all that."

"Oh!" Rosie sat up very straight. She spoke a little breathlessly. "But, Danny, won't Jarge be too old then?"

Danny drew a long face. "I had forgotten all about that, Rosie. To be sure he will. He must be ten or fifteen years older than you this minute."

"No, Danny, no! He's not! He's only six years older--about six and a half. I'm thirteen now. I had a birthday last month. And he's nineteen and a half. I know because he's four months older than Ellen."

"Six years, do you say?" Danny mumbled. "Well, now, that's a good many, Rosie. Let's see: when you're eighteen, he'll be twenty-four. H'm. At twenty-four a lad's getting on, ain't he? Of course a lot of them don't marry nowadays till thirty but, if they'd ask me advice, I'd tell them to settle down with the right girl by the time they're twenty-five....

Yes, Rosie, you're right: Jarge'd be pretty old. Six years is a pretty big difference."

Rosie tossed her head. "I'm not so sure about that! Let's see now: Harry Long is twenty-six and that makes him seven years older than Ellen, and I'm sure Harry and Ellen look fine together! No one would ever think of calling Harry old! Why, he don't look a bit old!"

Danny shrugged his shoulders. "Well, Rosie, have it your own way!"

"Danny Agin, how you talk! Have it my own way, indeed! It isn't my way, it's just facts!"

Danny looked bored. "Well, anyway, it's all in the future, so why are we arguin' now? You'll be falling in love and probably falling out again with half a dozen lads before you're eighteen, and by the time you're twenty you'll probably be happily married to some one you've never yet laid eyes on. That's how it goes. And in that case, you'll have long since forgotten all about poor old Jarge Riley."

"Is that so?" Rosie spoke rather coldly, not to say sarcastically.

However, she did not dispute Danny's word. If that was his opinion, he was, of course, welcome to it. By the same token, Rosie claimed a like privilege for herself. The way she pressed her lips together told very plainly that her opinion differed somewhat from Danny's.

Presently Danny opened on another subject. "Now about Jarge Riley: If you ask me advice, Rosie, I think you had better write him a letter. It would be a bad thing to have him come down here not knowin' about Ellen."

Rosie's face changed. "But, Danny, it would be an awful hard letter to write and, besides, it isn't my business."

"That's so," Danny agreed. "Perhaps now you'd better not meddle. When I suggested it, it was only because I was thinkin' that you and Jarge were such good friends that you'd be wantin' to spare him a little. But, after all, he's a man, so he might as well come down and find things out for himself. It'll be an awful shock, but no matter. Besides, maybe Ellen'll write him. In fact, I'm sure she will."

"Ellen!" Rosie snorted scornfully. "Ellen never yet has done anything she hasn't wanted to do and I don't see her beginning now!"

"We've all got to begin some time," Danny remarked.

Rosie pointed her finger impressively. "Danny Agin, I know Ellen O'Brien Long better than you do and, when I say she'll never write a line to Jarge, I guess I know what I'm talking about."

"I'm sure you do," Danny murmured meekly. "If you say she won't, she won't. I wouldn't question your word for a hundred dollars. If you tell me that Jarge is not to get a letter, then it's settled. He won't get a letter." Danny sighed. "Poor Jarge! I do feel sorry for him! It'll be an awful shock to him!" Danny sighed again. "But, of course, every one has to take a few shocks in this life. Ah, me!"

Rosie sighed, too. "If I was to write him, Danny, what would I say?"

Danny wagged his head. "It'd be a pretty hard letter and, as you say yourself, why should you?"

"I know it would be hard," Rosie agreed, "but, if I wanted to write it, I guess it wouldn't be too hard for me. Only I'm not quite sure what to say."

Danny squinted his little eyes thoughtfully. "Well, Rosie, if I was writing such a letter, to begin with I'd tell me bad news as quickly as I could and have it over with. Then, if it was some one I was real fond of, I'd tell him what I thought of him. It don't hurt any one to be told he has a friend or two. Then I'd fill in with all the family news and talk I could, so's he wouldn't feel lonely. At first he wouldn't have eyes for anything but the bad news, but, after while, he'd begin to take comfort from the rest of the letter and, if it was written with lots of love and feelin', I'm thinkin' there'd come a time when he'd be readin'

that part over and over and over again, I dunno how many times, and takin' a little more comfort from it each time."

Rosie stood up a little breathlessly. "Good-bye, Danny. I must hurry home. I've got something to do."

"Don't be runnin' off," Danny begged. "Besides, I'm not done yet with the letter. As I was sayin', I wouldn't try to finish it in one sitting.

I'd write at it as much as I could every day and in a week's time it'd be a good big letter."

"But, Danny, Thanksgiving's not more than three weeks off!"

"Three weeks, do you say? That's bad. The poor lad ought to be given two weeks' notice at least. So if any one was to write him, they'd better begin at once. They'd have to write every day for a week pretty steadily."

"Is that all, Danny?"

"It's all I think of just now. If you was to sit awhile longer, Rosie, maybe something more would come to me."

"I don't believe I better, Danny. I'm awful busy. I must get home."

"But you'll stop awhile tomorrow, darlint, won't you? Promise me you will."

Rosie thought a moment. "It's this way, Danny: I'm a little behind in school and I've got to catch up. And, besides that, I'll be very busy for a week on something else. I don't believe I'll have time to stop tomorrow but, if I have, I will. Good-bye."

Rosie started off, then turned back a little shyly. She put her arm about old Danny's neck and kissed him on the cheek. "Danny, you're awful good to me. And do you know, Danny, after Jarge and Geraldine and Janet I think I love you best of all!"

Danny chuckled. "Well, I suppose fourth ch'ice is better than no ch'ice at all!"

CHAPTER XLII

THE ROSIE MORROW

For a whole week Rosie worked away at her letter. She followed Danny's advice and added new pages each day. As a result her ma.n.u.script grew in bulk with startling rapidity. She had to buy a big envelope for it and then spend a large part of a week's wages on postage stamps.

Here is what she wrote:

DEAR GEORGE,

How are you and how is your mother and how is your father? Tell your mother that Geraldine is growing so fast that she would hardly know her.

George, I've got some bad news for you. Only it isn't as bad as it sounds, for I know it will be all right in the end. George, Ellen's got married. He's a feather salesman. He wears sporty clothes. He's twenty-six years old. That makes him seven years older than Ellen. He's a good-looker. Him and Ellen are just the same kind. They both like to dress and to gad around.