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.
"They think I'm earning money for Christmas," she said, "I didn't
say that, honestly I didn't, Jack. But whenever I told any one I
wanted to earn some money and did they want me to take care of their
baby for fifteen cents an hour, they always said, 'Oh, I suppose you
want to earn some money for Christmas, before school opens'!"
"Bet you'll give it up after the first day," prophesied Jack.
"Taking care of cranky babies isn't what it is cracked up to be."
There were many afternoons when Rosemary recalled his words. She
would have liked to give up, often. The babies were as good and
sweet-tempered as babies usually are, but no child is angelic and
the hot weather and their teeth troubles fretted the small people
sadly. Rosemary was sometimes at her wits' end to keep her charges
amused and there were days when she longed to fly home and rest her
tired head on the cool pillow on her own little bed. She had never
been forced to do anything steadily for long after she tired of it,
and to be obliged to smile and play with a wailing, discontented
baby on a hot, muggy afternoon did seem more than she could stand.
But she had plenty of perseverance, had Rosemary, and when she once
made up her mind to do a thing she stuck it out. Sarah and Shirley
had ceased to worry about the ring. Rosemary would make it all right
again for them--of that they had no doubt.
But if Aunt Trudy slept long hours and did not interfere with the
goings and comings of her young nieces, she was not quite so
unobservant as they sometimes thought.
"It seems to me that Rosemary is out of the house a good deal," she
remarked one morning to Winnie. "She ought to take more of an
interest in things here at the house."
"Well, I suppose it's only natural she should find a good deal to do
outside," answered Winnie, who had not been blind to Rosemary's
frequent absences, cautiously. "She's young, you know, and doing
your duty gets tiresome after a bit."
But to herself, Winnie admitted that Rosemary seemed to have
absolved herself from any responsibility toward her sisters. "Left
them to shift for themselves," was the way Winnie put it. She was
puzzled and also disappointed in her favorite, for indifference of
any kind had never been a Rosemary trait.
"She ought to be looking after Sarah and Shirley some of the time,"
grumbled Winnie. "Those young ones are under my feet continually.
The least Rosemary can do is to read to 'em now and then to keep
them quiet."
That very afternoon Miss Mason, Rosemary's music teacher called to
see Aunt Trudy. Rosemary's music was falling below its usual
standard and that was a pity. Was she practising as faithfully as
usual?
"I think it is a shame to waste all that money on music lessons, if
you won't practise, Rosemary," announced her aunt at the dinner
table that night.