JANET EXPLAINS
By ten o'clock next morning Janet McFadden was at the door asking for
Rosie. Rosie did not, of course, ever care to see Janet again, but as
she had come Rosie could scarcely deny herself.
She found her one-time friend looking pinched and
worried--conscience-stricken, no doubt--and little wonder.
"I'm going to the grocery, Janet. Do you want to come with me?"
Hardly outside the gate, Janet began: "You're not mad at me, Rosie, are
you?"
"Mad?" Rosie spoke the word as if it were one with which she was
unfamiliar.
"I didn't think you'd care, Rosie, honest I didn't. I thought you'd
understand."
"Understand what?" There was a certain coldness in the tone of Rosie's
inquiry, and Janet, feeling it, seemed ready to wring her hands in
despair.
"Why, Rosie, all we talked about was you--honest it was! Jarge said you
were just like his own little sister to him, and I told him I loved you
more than I would my own sister if I had one."
"Huh!" Rosie grunted, recalling the tilt of Janet's black sailor hat
over George's shoulder. It had looked then as if they were talking about
her, hadn't it now?
"Honest, Rosie!"
"Yes, of course. I suppose now you were talking about me when you----"
Rosie pursed her lips and Janet, understanding her meaning, blushed
guiltily.
"Aw, now, Rosie, listen: all I wanted was to have Tom Sullivan see."
"Well, he saw all right. So did I. So did everybody. And it was
disgraceful, too!"
Janet groped helplessly about for words. "I don't exactly mean on
account of Tom himself."
"Oh!"
"Please, Rosie," Janet begged; "don't talk to me that way.... You know
Tom's mother, my Aunt Kitty. You know the way she makes fun of me
because I'm ugly and lanky. She's always saying that I'm an old maid
already and that I'll never get a boy to look at me. So I just wanted
her to hear about a nice fella like Jarge Riley hugging me and kissing
me."
Rosie looked at Janet in astonishment. She had certainly expected Janet
to make up a better story than that.
"Well, I must say, Janet McFadden, this is news to me! Since when have
you got so particular about what your Aunt Kitty thinks or doesn't
think? I always supposed she was beneath your contemp'."
"No, no, Rosie, it isn't that! I don't care what she thinks or what she
says either, if only she wouldn't go blabbing it around everywhere!"
With a sudden gust of passion, Janet clenched her hands and breathed
hard. "Oh, how I hate her!"
Rosie had nothing to say and, after a pause, Janet continued more
quietly:
"It's this way, Rosie: You know my old man. He's all right except
sometimes when he comes home not quite himself. You know what I mean."
Yes, Rosie knew. In fact, like the rest of the world, she knew a great
deal more than Janet supposed about Dave McFadden's drunken abuse of his
wife and child.
"He's all right when he's straight, Rosie, honest he is."
Never before had Janet confessed in words, even to Rosie, that her
father wasn't always sober. It was the fiction of life that she
struggled most valiantly to maintain that this same father was the best
and noblest of his kind. Poor Janet! In spite of herself Rosie
experienced a pang of the old pity which thought of Janet's hard life
always excited. But Janet was not striving to appeal to her thus. Slowly
and painfully she was forcing herself to lay bare the little tragedy
that shadowed her days....
"When he comes home that way he says awful things to me. He says I got a
face like a horse and arms as long as a monkey's. He'd never think of
things like that if it wasn't for Aunt Kitty. You know he thinks
everything Aunt Kitty says is wonderful because she's supposed to be the
bright one of the family and used to be pretty. And, Rosie, she ain't
got a bit o' sense. All she can do is make people laugh by making fun of
somebody. She never cares how much she hurts any one's feelings. I--I
know I'm ugly, but--can I help it?..." Janet's face was quivering and
her eyes were swimming in tears. "I don't see why Aunt Kitty's got to
talk about it, do you? Even if I am ugly, I guess--I guess I got
feelings like anybody else.... It's only when dad's full that he starts
in on it and begins to yell around until everybody in the building hears
him. And I know just as well he'd never think of it if only Aunt Kitty
would let up on me a little. So I thought---- Oh, you understand now,
don't you, Rosie? That's the reason I did it, honest it is. You believe
me, Rosie, don't you?"
Believe her? Who wouldn't believe her? Long before she had finished
speaking, the citadel of Rosie's affections had been stormed and retaken
and Rosie, abject and conquered, was ready to cry for mercy.
"And when I told Jarge Riley about it," Janet continued, "he was just as
nice. He pretended he wanted to kiss me anyhow, but he didn't, Rosie,
honest he didn't. It was only because I was your friend that he wanted
to be nice to me...."
Of course, of course. At last Rosie was seeing things as they really
were, and seeing them thus made her heartsick when she remembered how
she had spoken to kind old George Riley. How could she ever put herself
right with him?... She would be carrying his supper up to the cars at
six o'clock. There would be only an instant of time, but an instant
would be enough for her to say: "Oh, Jarge, I've just been happy all day
long thinking about the good time you gave me yesterday! Me and Janet
have been talking about it. Thanks, thanks so much!" And George Riley,
if she knew him at all, instead of recalling her foolish words of last
night, would grin all over and gasp out: "Aw, Rosie, that wasn't nuthin'
at all!" That was the sort of fellow George was!...
"But listen here, Rosie," Janet's voice was continuing in tones of
humble entreaty; "if I'd ha' known it would ha' made you mad, I wouldn't
have asked Jarge Riley--honest I wouldn't. You believe me, don't you,
Rosie?"
Tears were in Rosie's throat and self-abasement in her heart. Words,
however, came hard. Fortunately she could slip her arm about Janet's
neck in the old sweet, intimate fashion and Janet would understand that
all was well between them.
"And, Janet dear, are you sure that Tom'll tell his mother?"
"Yes, I'm sure, because I made him promise not to."
"Why, Janet!"
"Sure, Rosie. You see Aunt Kitty'll ask him all about things and he'll
tell about you and how pretty you looked and about Jarge Riley, and then
Aunt Kitty'll begin making fun of me and that'll make Tom mad and he'll
tell Aunt Kitty not to be so sure, and then she'll see he's holding back
something and she'll tease until she gets it out of him.... Oh, Rosie, I
tell you I know her just as well! I can just hear her! And when Tom
tells her how mad you are, that'll make her believe the rest.... But
honestly, Rosie, I didn't know you was mad till Tom told me."
"Tom!" Rosie was indignant at once. "Do you mean to say Tom Sullivan
told you I was mad? Well, the next time you see Tom Sullivan you tell
him for me to mind his own business!" Rosie paused a moment, then drew
Janet closer to her. "Mad? What's eating Tom Sullivan? Friends like you
and me, Janet, don't get _mad_!"
And Janet McFadden, shaking her head in horror that any one should even
suggest such a thing, declared emphatically: "Of course not!"