DANNY'S SUGGESTION
Mrs. O'Brien received her daughter with open arms.
"Ah, Rosie dear, I'm glad to see you! And I can't tell you the fuss
they've all been making at your absence.... Yes, Geraldine darlint,
sister Rosie's come back at last."
Rosie took the baby and hugged and kissed her as though she had not seen
her for weeks. "And are you glad to see Rosie?" she crooned.
"She is that!" Mrs. O'Brien declared. "And himself, Rosie, was
complainin' the whole evening about your not being here. And Terry, too,
he kept askin' where you were. And Jarge Riley, Rosie! Why, Jarge is
fairly lost without you! He was in early this morning and just now when
I was startin' to get him his breakfast, he stopped me. And what for, do
you think? He wanted to wait to see if you wouldn't be coming back. Why,
Rosie, I do believe that b'y thinks that no one can boil coffee or fry
eggs equal to yourself!"
Rosie glowed all over. "Ma, is he really waiting for me?... Here,
Geraldine dear, you go to ma for a few minutes. Rosie's got to get Jarge
Riley's breakfast. I'll be back soon, won't I, Ma?"
"And, Rosie dear, before you go, such a bit of news as I have: Ellen's
got a new job! They sent for her from the college. Now I do say it's a
fine compliment for any girl to be sent for like that. Ah, they know the
stuff that's in Ellen! As I says to her last night----"
"Tell me the rest some other time," Rosie begged. "You know Jarge is
waiting."
"To be sure he is," Mrs. O'Brien agreed. "He's in his room. Give him a
call as you go by."
In answer to her summons George appeared at once, collarless and in
shirtsleeves with the drowsiness of an interrupted nap in his eyes. He
beamed on Rosie affectionately.
"I thought you'd be coming."
"It was awful good of you waiting for me, Jarge."
"Good--nuthin'! Guess I know who can cook in this house!"
Conscious worth need not be offensive. Rosie answered modestly: "Oh, I
cook much better than I used to, Jarge. I learned ever so much from your
mother. I know how to make pie now. We used to have pie every day in the
country."
"I know." George sighed pathetically.
Rosie was all sympathy. "I'll make you a pie this week, honest I will.
Which would you rather have, rhubarb or apple?"
George weighed the choice while Rosie set out his breakfast.
"Guess you might make it rhubarb this time," he decided at last; "and
apple next time."
"Now then," Rosie said, pouring his coffee, "you eat and I'll sit down
and talk to you. I wanted to talk to you last night, but you know I had
to go off with poor Janet."
George looked at her seriously. "I don't like your staying over there
all night. I don't think it's safe. Dave's all right when he's sober,
but they say he ain't sober much nowadays."
"It was all right last night, Jarge. Janet had him in bed and asleep
before I got there."
"Well, even so...." George grumbled on.
"H'm," Rosie remarked a little pointedly. "Er--do you remember, Jarge,
what I was going to talk to you about last night?"
George looked at her inquiringly. "Was it anything special?"
"Don't you remember what you asked me to ask Danny Agin?"
"I didn't know I asked you to ask him anything." George spoke in candid
surprise.
"Oh, Jarge, what a poor memory you've got!" Rosie shook her head
despairingly. "You told me what a mess you had made of things with Ellen
and you asked my advice about what you ought to do and told me to talk
it over with Danny Agin. Now do you remember?"
George did not seem to remember things in just the order that Rosie gave
them, but he was gallant enough not to say so and, furthermore, to show
his acceptance of her version by an interested: "Oh, is that what you
mean?"
Rosie leaned toward him eagerly. "Don't you want to hear what Danny
said?"
"Sure I do."
"Well, Danny and me went over things very carefully and I agree with
Danny and Danny agrees with me. So, if you've got any sense, you'll do
just exactly what we tell you to."
George looked a little dubious. "Don't know as I'm so awful strong on
sense. Shoot away, though. I'd like to hear what you want me to do."
Rosie began impressively: "Danny says that the mistake you're making is
not going out and getting another girl. Ellen's so sure of you that of
course she don't take the least interest in you. All she's got to do is
crook her little finger and you're Johnny-on-the-spot. Now if you were
to get another girl and treat her real nice, Ellen wouldn't be long in
taking notice. That's the way girls are." Rosie wagged her head
knowingly.
George dropped his knife. "Aw, shucks! Is that all you got to say?"
Rosie's manner turned severe. "Now, Jarge Riley, you needn't say, 'Aw,
shucks!' What's more, I guess Danny Agin and me together have got more
sense than you have any day and we don't think it's shucks! Now you
listen to what I say and maybe you'll learn something."
But George still seemed unwilling to learn. "Aw, what do I want to go
chasing girls for? I don't like 'em, and besides, 'tain't nuthin' but a
tomfool waste of time and money!"
Rosie was scornful. "Is it because you're afraid of spending a cent?"
George met the charge calmly. "I wouldn't be afraid to spend all I make
on the right girl, but with all the places I got to put money, just tell
me, please, what's the sense of my throwing it away on some girl I don't
care beans about?"
"So's to get a chance at the girl you do care beans about!" Rosie was
emphatic. "Now I tell you one thing Jarge Riley: I don't think much of
Ellen and I think it would be a good deal better for you if she never
would look at you, but you're in love with her and you think you've got
to have her, and I've promised you I'd help you. Now: Are you going to
be sensible or aren't you?"
George refused to commit himself. Instead he asked: "How much do you
reckon this fool scheme would cost a fellow?"
Rosie was ready with a detailed estimate. "It would come to from five to
thirty cents every day."
"Every day!" George was fairly outraged at the suggestion. "Do you mean
to say you've got the cheek to expect me to go sporting some fool girl
every day?"
Rosie was firm. "That's exactly what I mean. I suppose you think the way
to make love to a girl is to give her an ice-cream soda once a month.
Well, it just ain't!"
George continued obstinate. "I'm not saying I know how to make love to a
girl because I don't and, what's more, I don't care. But I'll be blamed
if I'm willing to do more than one ice-cream soda a month for any girl
alive!"
Rosie caught him up sharply: "Not even for Ellen?"
"Ellen! Ellen's different! I'd like to do something for her every day of
her life."
"H'm! What, for instance?"
"Well, I ain't got much money, so I can't do very big things, but I'd
like to take her to the movies or on a street-car ride or buy her some
peanuts or candy or all kinds o' little things like that. I know they
ain't much in themselves, but if a fellow does them all the time, it
seems to me a girl ought to know that he's thinking about her a good
deal."
"Oh, Jarge, you're such a child!" Rosie smiled on him in womanly
amusement. "First you say you don't know how to make love and then you
tell just exactly how to do it! Now listen to me: The way to make love
to any girl is to treat her just like you'd like to treat Ellen. If
anything on earth is going to make Ellen wake up, it'll be just that.
And the very things you know how to do are the very things I was going
to tell you to do! A bag of peanuts is plenty for a walk and that's only
five cents. Then a night when you go to the movies would be ten cents
and, if it was hot, you'd probably want ten cents more for an ice-cream
soda afterwards and that would make twenty cents. If you took a car ride
and back, that would be twenty cents and a treat would be another ten
cents. And you'd be getting your money's worth while you were doing it
and perhaps you'd get Ellen, too."
George was not very happy over the prospect. "As you've got everything
else fixed up for me," he grumbled, "I suppose you've got the girl
picked out, too. But I tell you one thing: I won't take after one of
them Slattery girls, no matter what you say! If a fellow was to give one
of them an ice-cream soda once, he'd have to marry her!"
Rosie put out a quieting hand. "Now, Jarge, don't be silly! You don't
have to take one of the Slattery girls or any other girl that you don't
want to take. You can just suit yourself and no one's going to say a
word to you.... What kind of girl do you think you'd like? Do you want a
blonde? Well, there's Aggie Kearney, she's a blonde."
"Aw, cut out Aggie Kearney! What do you think I am!"
"Well, maybe you want a brunette. What about Polly Russell?"
"Aw, cut out Polly Russell, too! You know what I think of that whole
Russell bunch!"
Rosie looked a little hurt. "I must say, Jarge, even if you don't want
Polly, you needn't snap my head off. Make your own choice! I'm sure
there are enough girls right in this neighbourhood for any man to pick
from. How do you like 'em? Do you like 'em fat or do you like 'em thin?
Or maybe you don't want an American girl. Well, there are those Italians
around the corner and down further there's that nest of Yiddish. All
you've got to do is make up your mind about the kind of girl you want.
There's plenty of all kinds."
"Aw, get out! I tell you I don't want any of them!" By this time George
had grown very red in the face and his voice had risen to a volume
better suited to the outdoors than to a small room.
Rosie looked distressed. "You needn't talk so loud, Jarge. I'm not
deaf.... I must say, though, after all the trouble I've taken, ... And
poor old Danny Agin, too, ..." Rosie felt for her handkerchief.
"Well," George complained, "I don't see why you go offering me the worst
old snags in town! Why don't you pick out a few nice ones?"
Rosie swallowed quite pathetically and blinked her eyes toward the
ceiling. It has been observed that gazing fixedly at the ceiling very
often conduces to inspiration. Apparently it was to be so with Rosie.
The expression on her face slowly changed. She turned to George a little
shyly.
"I was just wondering, Jarge, whether, maybe, _I_ wouldn't do."
It must have been an inspiration! To attribute such a suggestion to
anything else would be to credit Rosie with a depth of guile which only
supreme feminine art could have compassed.
George at least saw no guile. His face glowed. He actually shouted in an
exuberance of relief. "Would you, Rosie? That'd be fine! We'd have a
bully time together!" Then he paused. "But, Rosie, do you think you're
big enough? I wouldn't think Ellen would get jealous of a little girl
like you."
Rosie shook her head reassuringly. "Don't you worry about me. I'm plenty
big enough. Besides, I don't count. You're the only one that counts. All
you've got to do is make love to almost any one. If it's some one you
like, then it'll be all the easier for you."
"Well, you know I like you all right, Rosie." The heartiness in George's
tone was unmistakable. "I just love to spend money on you, Rosie! That's
a great idea! Who thought of it, Danny or you?"
"Not Danny," Rosie answered promptly. "I thought of it myself--I mean,"
she added, "I thought of it just now. And you think it's a good idea, do
you, Jarge?"
"Good? You bet your life I think it's good! Why, do you know, Rosie,
when you began talking about Aggie Kearney and Polly Russell and those
Ginneys around the corner, you made me plumb sick! I was ready to throw
up the whole thing! I sure am glad you happened to think about yourself
on time!"
"H'm!" murmured Rosie.
"I mean it!" George insisted. "Let's start out tonight! What shall it
be, a street-car ride or the movies?"
"Just as you say." Rosie, with sweet deference, put the whole thing into
George's hands. "They're going to give the 'Two Orphans' at the Gem.
Three reels. I saw the posters this morning. But you decide, Jarge.
Whatever you say will be all right."
With a fine masterfulness George made the decision. "Well, I say movies
for tonight." He reached across the table and patted Rosie's face.
"Don't forget, kid, you're my girl now. And I tell you what: I'm going
to show you a swell time!"
"It's just as you say, Jarge," Rosie murmured meekly.