ROSIE RECEIVES AN INVITATION
Rosie did not see George that night, but she brought up the subject next
day at dinner. It was Sunday, so the whole family was assembled.
"Are you selling many tickets, Jarge?"
"Yes, a good many, and one of my customers give me back two."
"Oh, Jarge, did he really? What are you going to do with them?"
George glanced timidly in the direction of Ellen. It was plain at once
what he wanted to do with them. It was also plain that Ellen was not
going to give him much encouragement. To get the support of the family,
George made his invitation public. "I was hoping that Ellen would like
to go with me."
Ellen glanced up languidly. "Thanks, Mr. Riley, but I don't see how I
can."
George, swallowing hard, forced out the question: "Why not?"
"Well, if you insist on knowing, it's this: I don't care to make a guy
o' myself going out with a fella that don't come up much above my
shoulder."
Mrs. O'Brien threw up astonished hands and cried out: "Fie on you,
Ellen, fie, for sayin' such a thing!"
Rosie blazed and spluttered with indignation: "Ellen O'Brien, you ought
to be ashamed o' yourself to talk like that to a nice fella like Jarge
Riley! If you had any sense you'd know that he's worth a whole cart-load
of the dudes that you and Hattie Graydon run after!"
Rosie got up from her chair and, stepping over to George's place,
slipped her arm about his embarrassed neck. Then she put her cheek
against his. "Don't you care what that old Ellen says, Jarge. You're not
little at all! You're plenty big enough! Besides, little men are much
nicer!"
Ellen laughed maliciously. "It's a pity George don't ask you."
The red again surged up George's neck; he gulped; sent one hurt glance
in Ellen's direction, then spoke to Rosie: "Rosie, I've got tickets for
the Traction Boys' Picnic and I'd love like anything to take you. Have
you got anything else on for Friday night next week?"
"Friday night, did you say, Jarge? Why, for Friday night they ain't
nuthin' 'd suit me better! Thanks ever so much!"
Rosie, still behind George's chair, shot an annihilating glance at
Ellen. That young woman, a trifle piqued perhaps but still amused,
tossed her head and laughed.
"Ma, I don't think it's right the way Rosie's getting a grown-up fella
and me not even engaged yet! I don't think you ought to allow it!"
"Ellen, Ellen, your tongue's entirely too long!" Mrs. O'Brien looked at
her reprovingly, but Ellen, in a sudden change of mood, heeded her not.
She was gazing at Rosie with speculative eyes. When she spoke, it was in
a tone from which all banter and ill-humour had vanished.
"Ma, if Rosie does go with George Riley, there's just one thing: she's
got to have a new dress. The poor kid hasn't a stitch to her back. She
ought to have a little pink dimity. She's just sweet in pink. Lucky,
too, there's a sale on tomorrow at the Big Store. So you needn't say a
word--I'm going to get her something. And I'll trim her a hat, too."
Mrs. O'Brien protested that she hadn't the price of a ten-cent hat, let
alone a dress, but Ellen, as usual, was firm, and Rosie knew that she
was now destined to go to the picnic prettily costumed. Rosie would have
liked to nurse a while longer her indignation against Ellen but, as
Ellen was the only person in the house who knew how to trim a hat out of
little or nothing and how to whip together a pretty little dress, Rosie
was forced to change her manner of open hostility to one of a more
friendly reserve.
On the whole Rosie was jubilant. "I'm sure I don't know why it is," she
said to Janet McFadden, "but people are pretty nice to me, aren't they?"
"Nice?" echoed Janet with long-drawn emphasis. "Well, I should think
they are!... Say, Rosie, listen:"--Janet paused a moment--"do you think
Tom and me and you and Jarge could all go together? Do you think Jarge'd
mind?"
Rosie considered the request carefully before answering. Then she spoke
as kindly as she could: "I'm sure I don't know, Janet. Perhaps he'd like
it all right, but, then again, perhaps he wouldn't. Don't you know, men
are so queer nowadays. Anyway, though, I tell you what: I'll ask him."
"Will you, Rosie?" Janet's gratitude was almost pathetic.
Later, in presenting the case to George himself, Rosie's manner lost its
air of Lady Bountiful, and she pleaded Janet's cause with an earnestness
for which Janet would have worshipped her.
"Aw, now, Jarge, please! Poor Janet won't be in our way and she would
love to be with us. Tom Sullivan don't talk much and he's got red hair,
but he's awful nice, really he is. I told you he was trying to get me a
ticket before you invited me. And besides, Jarge, if we get tired of
them we can give them the slip for a little while."
As soon as Rosie paused for breath, George said: "Of course we'll let
Janet and Tom Sullivan come with us if you want them. This is to be your
party and you're to have things your own way."
Rosie looked her adoration. "Oh, Jarge, you're just too kind to me,
really you are!"
The new dress was a great success. It was a little rosebud dimity, pink
and pale green, which Ellen designed in pretty summer fashion to make
the most of Rosie's well-turned little arms and graceful neck. On a
ten-cent bargain counter Ellen had found a hat of yellow straw which was
just the thing to shape into a little bonnet and trim with a wreath of
pink rosebuds and two soft green streamers which hung down on either
side.
Ellen planned and worked and was happier than Rosie herself over each
new effect. Mrs. O'Brien, hovering about, beamed with approval.
"Ellen's an artist with her needle," she declared over and over again.
"She is indeed. How she does remind me of me own poor dead sister
Birdie! There was a milliner in Dublin would have give her two eyes to
get Birdie into her shop."
Mrs. O'Brien was right. Ellen was an artist with her needle and took all
an artist's joy in her own creation. As she worked on Rosie's costume,
she showed none of that impatient, overbearing selfishness which marked
her so disagreeably at other times, but was gentle, frank, and
affectionate. Once when she pricked Rosie's shoulders by accident she
kissed the hurt away, and Rosie, surprised and touched, threw her arms
impulsively about her neck.
"Why can't you always be like this to me, Ellen? I'd just love you
dearly if you were."
Ellen laughed a little shamefacedly. "Ain't I nice all the time, Rosie?
Well, I'm afraid it's that old business college. It gets on my nerves.
I suppose I ought to be studying now, but I'm not going to. I'm not
going to stop until I finish this for you."
On the afternoon of the picnic, Ellen was so proud of Rosie's appearance
that for once she forgot her haughtiness to George Riley. "Now tell the
truth, George, aren't you glad it's Rosie instead of me?"
George gave Ellen one sick look, gulped, then said bravely: "Rosie sure
is mighty pretty!"
"Pretty? I should say she is! See her now. Don't she look like a little
flower--a sweet-pea or something? And do you know, George, if I was to
dress that way, with my size and my height, I'd look like a guy! Yes, I
would."