Long before school began Mary Rose had established an acquaintance, if
not a friendship, with all the people who lived in the Washington. Not
only did she know them herself, but she was the means of many of them
knowing others. Mrs. Schuneman and Mrs. Johnson often went to the park
together now to feed the squirrels which Mary Rose was firmly convinced
the Lord had placed there for those who could not have pets in their
homes. Mrs. Matchan had promised to play at one of Mrs. Bracken's club
meetings and Mrs. Rawson and her machine were making garments for the
children's ward of the new hospital in which Mrs. Willoughby had become
interested.
Until Mary Rose came neither Miss Adams nor Mrs. Smith knew that the
other was a slave to the crochet hook. Mary Rose arranged an exchange
of patterns and when a pineapple border proved too complicated to be
worked out alone she brought expert aid and Miss Adams no longer hated
the Washington. It was Mary Rose who discovered that old Mr. Jarvis
and young Mr. Wilcox were graduates of the same college and that Mr.
Blake's grandfather and Mrs. Bracken's grandmother had once sung in the
same church choir. Miss Carter and Bob Strahan were often seen
strolling together and more than once they had transported Mary Rose to
the seventh heaven of delight by taking her to a moving picture show.
Mary Rose's friendliness had had an effect with the maids as well as
the mistresses. When she had found Mrs. Johnson's Hilda crying because
she didn't know anyone in Waloo and was so homesick and lonesome she
didn't think she'd stay, Mary Rose went down and asked Mrs. Schuneman's
Mina if she wouldn't please be a little friendly to a new friend of
hers.
Mina had stared at her with her big china blue eyes and said she
wouldn't do it for anyone else, but since Mary Rose had come Mrs.
Schuneman had let up a little on her everlasting nagging, so she felt
she owed her a favor and she'd go up that very evening.
It was Mary Rose who soothed Ida at Mrs. Rawson's when she took it into
her head that she could not work in the same building with a Japanese.
"You're a Norwegian, aren't you, Ida? So you're a foreigner just as
Mr. Sako is. I suppose he thinks Norwegians are just as strange as you
think Japanese. Countries are like families, I guess; you think your
own is the best in the world. But I don't believe that God was so good
to the Norwegians that he made them the best. He had to divide the
good things just as I do when I have any candy. I give some to Aunt
Kate and some to Uncle Larry and once I gave a chocolate to you, Ida.
I wish you'd try and be polite to Mr. Sako. You don't need to be
intimate friends if you don't want to. Just think what a splendid
chance you have to learn about Japan."
Ida had stared at her as Lena had done, but she told Mrs. Rawson that
she'd changed her mind and she wouldn't leave on account of any Jap,
she wouldn't be driven away by any yellow man. She guessed that
Norwegians were as good as Japanese any day.
There were many things that puzzled Mary Rose but almost as many that
pleased her.
"I've enjoyed living in Waloo," she told Mr. Jerry one evening as they
sat under the apple tree. "I didn't think I would at first. I thought
I'd die to have to live in a place where there couldn't be any children
nor any pets, but everyone's so friendly I mean--almost every one. I
do think the Lord did just right when he made people instead of
stopping, as he might have done, with horses and lions and monkeys.
Did you ever think how strange it would be if there wasn't any you nor
any Miss Thorley nor any Mrs. Schuneman nor any Mr. Wells," she spoke
the last name in a whisper, "but just animals and vegetables and birds?
Sometimes I can't understand how the Lord ever did think of making so
many different things. I suppose it was just because He was the Lord.
That's what Aunt Kate said when I asked her. But I shall be glad to go
to school, Mr. Jerry, because then I'll know some children. You know
in Mifflin I played almost all the time with children, Gladys and Mary
Mallow and Lucy Norris and Harry Mann and lots of others, but here I
don't seem to know anyone but grown-ups. They're very nice grown-ups.
I just love you, Mr. Jerry, and your Aunt Mary and the enchanted
princess! Do you think you'll ever be able to break the spell of that
wicked witch Independence?" anxiously. "You know I don't think she's
just happy. Aunt Kate doesn't either. She thinks it's red corpuscles
but I really believe it's that Independence. We must do something, Mr.
Jerry. And I love Miss Carter and Mr. Strahan and Mrs. Schuneman and
Grandma Johnson and everybody else. Isn't a heart the biggest thing?
Mine has room for Jenny Lind and George Washington and Solomon and all
the other pets I ever had or ever will have and for all the people that
were made. It's--it's--" she frowned--"very elastic, isn't it? You
have an elastic one, too, Mr. Jerry, or you'd never have taken in
George Washington and Solomon and Jimmie Bronson. You're a bachelor,
aren't you?"
Mr. Jerry looked quite dazed as he attempted to keep up with Mary
Rose's subjects. He sighed as he acknowledged that he was a bachelor.
"Is it because when you look at a girl you see how much she costs?"
Mary Rose had worried over that. "Because really Miss Thorley doesn't
cost so much. She told Aunt Kate she didn't. She said appearances
were deceitful and the most costly looking girls were often the
cheapest. Of course, you needn't tell me if you don't want to,"
remembering, alas, too late, that Miss Thorley had told her that one
should not ask personal questions. She drew a deep sigh. "I'm so
full, just so plumb full of questions I've got to spill some of them
out once in a while."
"To be sure you have!" Mr. Jerry was the most understanding person.
"When I was your age I was nothing but a walking question."
"Weren't you?" admiringly. "And did people answer your questions?
They usually say to me, 'Run along, child, I'm busy' or 'Never mind
that now, you'll know soon enough.' It's a very, very puzzling world,
isn't it, with so many things you don't understand. That's another
reason I'm so glad to go to school. The day after the day after the
day after tomorrow, Mr. Jerry, my Aunt Kate's going to take me. I've
never been to a city school so I can imagine it's just like a palace
with gold seats for the children and thrones for the teachers who are
all fairy princesses with beautiful golden hair and white satin
dresses."
"Mary Rose! Oh, Mary Rose!" Mr. Jerry regarded her sadly. "You are a
living proof that anticipation is greater than any old participation.
I'm only doing you a kindness when I tell you that there is not a
golden seat for any child in the Lincoln School. There isn't even one
throne. And if you don't have an old witch for a teacher instead of a
golden-haired fairy I'm a goat. I tell you this for your own good,
Mary Rose, believe me."
Mary Rose shook her head until her hair refused to stay in the ribbon
Aunt Kate had tied on it. "All the same I'm going to believe in the
golden seats. They are pleasant things to think of."
It was the next day that she was in the hall with Jenny Lind. They had
been calling on Mrs. Schuneman and Germania and had had a pleasant
time. Mary Rose had eaten two pieces of coffee cake and drunk a glass
of ginger ale and Jenny Lind had had a crumb of coffee cake which
seemed to be all she cared for.
Mrs. Schuneman had told Mary Rose a great secret, that Lottie was going
to be married to the brother of one of her bridge-playing friends and
that Mary Rose might come to the wedding. Mary Rose was so excited she
could scarcely speak. She had never been to a wedding in all of her
"going on fourteen" years.
"I've been to three funerals and a revival meeting--" ecstasy made her
voice tremble--"but I've never been to a wedding. Gladys went to one
and she said it was grand. Her grandmother cried all the time and her
grandfather blew his nose six times. Gladys counted. Oh, Mrs.
Schuneman, will Miss Lottie really invite me? It would be something,"
and she clasped her hands as she stood in front of Mrs. Schuneman, "for
me to remember all of my life!"
"Sure, she'll invite you, you and Jenny Lind. She can hang in the
window with Germania and sing for the bride."
Mary Rose threw herself against Mrs. Schuneman. "I wouldn't exchange
you for Cinderella's godmother!" she half sobbed. "I'd rather go to a
wedding than have a dozen pumpkin coaches. Jenny Lind and I can't tell
you how obliged we are."
She was in a whirl of excitement as she shut the door. She heard her
name called softly from above and looking up she saw Miss Carter's face
smiling down at her from the third floor.
"Oh, Mary Rose, honey," came the soft whisper. "There's a package
there for me, parcel post. You know they don't come up. Will you
bring it to me? I'm not dressed to go down. Do, there's a love!"
Mary Rose ran into the vestibule and found a parcel addressed to Miss
Blanche Carter. It was rather a large package and Mary Rose's arms
were not so long as they would be some day. She looked dubiously from
the package to Jenny Lind.
"You'll just have to stay by yourself a minute, Jenny Lind. It's lucky
for you that the law doesn't let the cats come into this house."
She put the cage on the flat top of the newel post and, taking Miss
Carter's package in her arms, she went up as fast as she could. She
had to tell Miss Carter of Lottie Schuneman's wedding and of the
invitation that she and Jenny Lind were to receive, and Miss Carter had
to open the parcel and show the contents to Mary Rose, so that it was
several minutes instead of one before Mary Rose ran downstairs.
The newel post was empty. There was no bird cage with a yellow canary,
on it. Mary Rose couldn't believe there wasn't and looked again. She
was frightened.
"Jenny Lind!" she called. "Jenny Lind!" Perhaps someone had taken the
cage to tease her. Perhaps there had been a new law and birds were not
allowed in the house. Perhaps a cat had slipped in regardless of the
fact that cats were forbidden. But no cat could have carried the cage
out of the front door. Mary Rose wrung her hands in horror and ran to
knock at Mrs. Schuneman's door. Mrs. Schuneman cried out in dismay.
"Why didn't you leave her with me?"
"I didn't want to bother you when you'd been so kind," faltered Mary
Rose. "Where can she be? Perhaps Uncle Larry took her home."
But neither Uncle Larry nor Aunt Kate had taken Jenny Lind to the
basement flat. Aunt Kate shook her head when Mary Rose told what had
happened and followed her up to look at the empty newel post. She
could only suggest feebly that someone must have taken the bird. "For
a joke," she added when she saw Mary Rose's frightened face.
"A nice kind of a joke to frighten a child to death," grunted Mrs.
Schuneman. "Here, Mary Rose, we'll knock on every door and ask. I'll
go with you and if anyone is playing a joke they'll stop when they see
me."
She looked quite grim enough to frighten any joker as they went from
door to door. But no one had seen Jenny Lind. No one had heard of
her. Mrs. Johnson and Grandma Johnson and Mrs. Rawson and Mrs.
Willoughby came out on the second-floor landing and said what a shame
it was, and on the third floor Mrs. Matchan and Miss Adams and Miss
Proctor and Miss Carter talked together and tried to comfort Mary Rose.
But all the talking on all three floors did not bring Jenny Lind back.
Mary Rose pressed her face close to Aunt Kate and tried not to cry and
to believe the conscience-stricken Miss Carter when she said that Jenny
Lind was all right, they'd find her before Mary Rose could say Jack
Robinson.
"She's all I had here of my very own," hiccoughed Mary Rose; "I had to
board out my cat and loan my dog. I've had her for years and years.
It doesn't seem just fair for anyone to take her from me."
"You can have Germania," promised Mrs. Schuneman, to the surprise of
all who heard her. "I'll be busy with the wedding and won't have time
to take care of her," she added kindly so that Mary Rose would think it
was a favor to take her bird.
"But Germania's yours and Jenny Lind was--was mine. They can't ever be
the same, though I'm much obliged, Mrs. Schuneman. Oh, where can she
be, Aunt Kate? Where can she be?"
"Yes, where can she be?" repeated Grandma Johnson helplessly.
"We'll advertise," promised Bob Strahan, who had come in and heard the
sad story of Jenny Lind's disappearance. "Just you keep a stiff upper
lip, Mary Rose. We'll find your bird."
They were all talking at once and advising Mary Rose to keep her upper
lip stiff when Mr. Wells slammed the door behind him. He stopped when
he saw the group around the newel post.
"What's the matter?" he scowled, and his voice was like the bark of a
dog to Mrs. Donovan's nervous ear. "What's the matter?"
It was Mrs. Schuneman who told him. She had never dared to speak to
him before. He looked oddly from one to the other and last of all at
Mary Rose whose upper lip just wouldn't stay stiff.
"It is only what you should expect," he said, as he went on up the
stairs. "Pets are not allowed in this building."
"I wish grouches weren't," muttered Bob Strahan to Miss Carter, who was
almost as tearful as Mary Rose.
"Brute!" she answered. "If he had been here I should think he had
something to do with Jenny Lind's disappearance."
"That Jap of his was here," suggested Bob Strahan, but no one paid any
attention to him then.
"Come down with me, dearie," whispered Aunt Kate, whose ruddy cheeks
had lost their color under the cold stare of Mr. Wells. "We mustn't
make any disturbance here. Come down an' tell Uncle Larry. P'rhaps he
can help us."
"It's not--not knowing where she is or what's happened to her," Mary
Rose gulped. "If she was well and comfortable I'd--I'd try to be
resigned, but when I don't know, Aunt Kate! When I don't know!"
"Nothing has happened to her," Bob Strahan said promptly. "No one
would hurt Jenny Lind. She is a valuable bird. I expect she was
stolen and we'll find her at a bird store. The thief would be sure to
sell her right away, before he was caught. I'll look up the bird
shops."
"Do!" begged Miss Carter, who wished from the very bottom of her heart
that she had never asked Mary Rose to bring up her parcel post package.
"I have half a mind to go with you."
"Be generous and have a whole mind. Poor little kid," he looked after
Mary Rose as Aunt Kate half carried her down. "It's a thundering
shame. Lord! I'm almost ready to think old grouch Wells did have a
hand in this. Did you see his face? He's had it in for Mary Rose ever
since she came."
Aunt Kate sat down in the big rocker and drew Mary Rose close to her
heart. "Don't you fret yourself, Mary Rose," she said with her lips
against Mary Rose's tear-stained face. "We'll find Jenny Lind. Sure,
we'll find her. Just you pretend she's gone for a visit. You've
loaned her to 'most everyone in the buildin', just you pretend she's
loaned now."
"It's easy enough to pretend when you don't have to, Aunt Kate, but it
isn't so easy when you know the truth," sobbed Mary Rose.
When Uncle Larry heard what had happened he shut his jaws with a click
and a stern look came into his mild blue eyes.
"Of course someone took her," he said, patting Mary Rose's shoulder
with a comforting hand. "But don't you worry, Mary Rose. A janitor
can go into any flat in this building, so if someone is hiding her for
fun or meanness I'll find out. An' if it's anyone outside, well, what
are the police for if not to help folks? I'll just speak to Officer
Murphy to be on the safe side."
He seemed so helpful and confident that Mary Rose stopped crying and
tried to feel confident, also.
"Perhaps someone in the house did take her for company, but I think it
would have been more polite if they'd said something to me," she
murmured.
"It's more likely that one of the old cranks thought the bird was a
nuisance and wrung its neck," frowned Uncle Larry when he spoke to Aunt
Kate alone. He did not seem half so confident as when he had spoken to
Mary Rose. "There are folks not so many miles away who'd not stop to
think whether they broke a kid's heart or not so long as they had their
way. I declare, Kate, I'm 'most sorry you didn't leave her in Mifflin.
From all she says folks were kind to her there."
"Well, I'm not sorry!" Aunt Kate's voice was emphatic. "It breaks my
heart to have her hurt, but we'll just have to keep remindin' her of
what she has left, although it seems if it was little enough. First
her mother an' then her father, her cat put out to board an' her dog
the same as given away, an' now her bird's stolen. You might almost
think that Providence was pickin' on the little thing."