HOW TO KEEP A DUCK OUT OF WATER
Jack was home in good time for supper.
"Ah, now, do you see, Rosie?" Her mother pointed to him in triumph.
"It's just as I told you. Here he is safe and sound. But, Jackie dear,
mind now: the next time don't ye go into the deep water until ye know
how to swim."
Ellen glanced at him amusedly. "Been in swimmin', kid?"
To Rosie the question seemed both stupid and inane, for Jack's face had
a clean, varnished look that was unmistakable, and his hair had dried in
stiff, shiny streaks close to his head.
He was hungry and ate with zest, but he said little and carefully
avoided Rosie's eye. Very soon after supper he slipped off quietly to
bed. Rosie did not pursue him. She was waiting for George Riley, upon
whom she was pinning her last hope.
Presently he came but, before she had time to get his advice, she was
hurried upstairs by Jackie himself, who called down in urgent, tearful
tones:
"Rosie! Oh, Rosie! Come here! Please come! Come quick!"
The little front bedroom with its sloping walls and one dormer window
was Ellen's room, theoretically. Actually, Rosie shared Ellen's bed, and
Jack's little cot stood at the bottom of the bed between the door and
the bureau.
Rosie felt hurriedly for matches and candle. "Now, Jackie dear, what's
the matter? You're not sick, are you? Tell Rosie."
"It hurts! It hurts!" Jack was sitting up, wailing dolefully. He reached
toward Rosie in a helpless, appealing way that warmed her heart.
Whatever was the matter, it was bringing him back to her.
"What is it hurts, Jackie?"
"My back! It burns! I tell you it's just burnin' up!"
Rosie gently lifted off his nightshirt and held the candle close.
"Jackie! What's happened to your back and shoulders? They're all red and
swollen! What did those Slattery boys do to you?"
"They didn't do nuthin', Rosie, honest they didn't. Ouch! Ouch! Can't
you do something to make it stop hurting?"
"Wait a minute, Jackie, and I'll call Jarge Riley. Jarge'll know what to
do."
George came at once and as quickly recognized Jack's ailment. "Ha, ha,
Jack, old boy, how's your sunburn? Jiminy, you've got a good one this
time!... Say, how's the water?"
[Illustration: Rosie gently lifted off his nightshirt and held the
candle close.]
"Ugh-h-h!" moaned Jack. "It hurts!" Then with a change of voice he
answered George enthusiastically: "Dandy! Just as warm and nice as
anything!"
George sighed. "Golly! Wisht I was a kid again! There sure is no place
like the old swimmin'-hole in the good old summer-time!"
Rosie glared indignantly. "Jarge Riley, ain't you ashamed of yourself!
It's dangerous to go in swimming and you know it is! Jackie's never
going in again, are you, Jackie?"
Jack snuffled tearfully: "My back hurts! Can't some o' you do something
for it?"
Rosie turned stiffly to George. "What I called you up here for was to
ask you what's good for a sunburnt back."
"Excuse me," murmured George meekly. "Let's see now: We ought to put on
some oil or grease, then some powder or flour."
"Will lard do?" Rosie still spoke coldly.
"Yes, but vaseline would be better. There's a bottle of vaseline on my
bureau. Do you want to get it, Rosie?"
Rosie hurried off and returned just in time to hear George say: "Oh, you
can go in again in two or three days."
Rosie blazed on him furiously. "Jarge Riley, what are you telling
Jackie?"
"I?" He spoke with an assumption of innocence and that look of
guilelessness which Rosie was fast learning to associate with male
deceit. "I was just telling him it would take a couple o' days for his
back to peel. Then he'll be all right again."
Rosie looked at him in scorn, but made no comment. She resolved one
thing: George Riley should have no more moments alone with Jack. When
the time came, she made him go downstairs for the flour-shaker, then
curtly dismissed him.
"I guess you can go now, Jarge. Jackie wants to go to sleep. Now, Jackie
dear, just lie on your stummick and you'll be asleep in two minutes."
George hesitated a moment. "Didn't you say you wanted to see me about
something, Rosie?"
Rosie looked at him steadily. "If ever I said that it was before I knew
you as well as I know you now. Now they isn't anything I want to say to
you."
George gasped helplessly and departed, and Rosie, after settling Jack
comfortably, blew out the candle.... So even George Riley had joined the
conspiracy against her! Well, she was not done fighting yet.
She insisted upon making an invalid of Jack the next morning, keeping
him in bed and carrying up his breakfast to him. All day long, she
waited on him, hand and foot, loved, amused, coaxed, threatened, bribed
him, until by evening she had him weak and helpless, ready to agree to
anything she might suggest.
At supper Mrs. O'Brien beamed on him sympathetically and remarked to
Ellen, who was just home from business college: "Ellen dear, do you
know the awful back o' sunburn poor wee Jack's got on him? Rosie's been
nursing him all day."
Ellen glanced at Terry and laughed. "Do you remember, Terry, how you
used to come home after your first swim every summer?"
Jack looked up eagerly. "Oh, Terry, did you used to get sunburned, too?"
Terry nodded. "Sure I did. Every fella does."
Jack's face took on an expression of heavenly content.
"Is it peeling yet?" Terry asked.
"No, but it's cracking." Jack's tone was hopeful.
Rosie moved uneasily. "Terence O'Brien, I just wish you'd look out what
you're saying, and you too, Ellen! It's dangerous to go in swimming, and
Jackie's never going again, are you, Jackie?"
Jack hesitated a moment, then murmured a weak little "No."
Mrs. O'Brien nodded approvingly. "Ah, now, ain't Jack the good b'y to
promise sister Rosie never to go in swimmin' again!"
Ellen chuckled. "At least until his back's well!"
Rosie flew at her sister like an angry little clucking hen. "Ellen
O'Brien, you just mind your own business! Come on, Jackie, we're
through. We're going out in front by ourselves, aren't we?"
Jack, apparently, wanted to remain where he was; but when Rosie
whispered, "And I've got another penny for you," he slipped quietly
down from his chair.
When you know that this was Jack's fifth penny for that day, you have
some idea of what the struggle was costing Rosie. A week's wages seemed
in a fair way of being eaten up in a few days. It was a fearful drain on
her resources, but anything, Rosie told herself, to keep him out of the
clutches of the Slattery gang!
By the third day his back was dry and peeling. After dinner, as Rosie
was coming home from the grocery, she found him at the front gate
boasting about it to Joe Slattery.
Rosie interrupted politely: "Jackie, will you come into the house a
minute? I got something to ask you."
Jack looked at her kindly. "All right, Rosie. You go on in and I'll be
in in a minute."
The dismissal was so friendly that Rosie could not gainsay it. She
hurried around to the back door and then rushed through the house to the
front door, which she slipped open wide enough to see and to hear what
was going on at the gate. Joe Slattery's voice carried distinctly.
"Say, Jack, what do you say to goin' down now? Aw, come on! Let's."
Rosie did not have to ask herself what Joe Slattery was proposing; she
knew only too well. Breathless, she awaited Jack's answer. It came with
scarcely an instant's hesitation.
"All right. Let's."
Jack was out of the gate and off before Rosie could push open the front
door.
"Jackie! Jackie! Where you going? Wait for Rosie!"
"Me and Joe got to go down and see a fella. We'll be back soon, won't
we, Joe?"
"Sure we will, Rosie. We'll be back in ten minutes."
Rosie shook her head reproachfully. "Jackie, Jackie, you're telling
Rosie a story, you know you are! You're going swimming and you promised
me you wouldn't! Oh, Jackie, how can you, after the nickel I gave you
this morning, and the seven cents yesterday, and the nickel the day
before, and the nickel of the first day you went with Joe? Oh, Jackie,
how can you take poor Rosie's money and then act that way?"
Jack had nothing to say, but Joe Slattery was able to answer for him.
"Aw, go on, Rosie O'Brien--Jack's goin' in swimmin' if he wants to! I
guess you ain't his boss! Come on, Jack!"
Joe threw his arm about Jack's shoulder and together they marched off.
Rosie put forth one last effort: "Jackie O'Brien, you listen here: If
you go swimming with Joe Slattery, I----" She searched about frantically
for some threat sufficiently terrifying. She paused a moment, then hit
upon something which, a few months earlier, would have worked like
magic. "If you do, _I'll never button your shoes again! Never again!_"
Jack glanced back insolently over Joe's shoulder. "Aw, go on! What do I
care? Anyway, it's summer-time and I'm goin' barefoot!"