Mary Rose had decided to write a letter. The more she thought of what
she had heard her Aunt Kate say to her Uncle Larry that Sunday morning
the less she liked it. She would write to the owner of the Washington,
to the man who made laws so that children and cats and dogs were not
allowed in his house, and tell him just how it was; and then, why, of
course, he would say it was all right, that Uncle Larry could stay and
she could stay, and everything would be as it was except for Jenny
Lind. Her lip quivered as she tried hard to remember that the Lord had
his eye on Jenny Lind.
She had a box of paper of her own with cunning Kewpie figures across
the top of each sheet. Miss Carter had given it to her one day when
Mary Rose told her of a letter she had received from Gladys. The
letter to the owner of the Washington was not as easy to write as the
answer to Gladys' note had been. She screwed her face into a frowning
knot as she tried to think what it was best for her to say.
DEAR MR. OWNER: [That much was easy.]
This letter is from Mary Rose Crocker, who lives in the cellar of your
Washington house. I mean the basement. We call them cellars in
Mifflin where I used to live, but in Waloo they are basements. Uncle
Larry said you have a law that won't let children live in your house.
I don't understand that, for there have always been children. Adam and
Eve had them and most everybody but George Washington. He never did.
Is that why you named your house after him? My mother died when I was
a tweenty baby and my father is in Heaven with her, too, and I had to
leave Solomon, he's my dog, in Mifflin and board out my cat, but he's
self-supporting now and my bird has been stolen, so there isn't anyone
but just me in the cellar. I mean basement. Aunt Kate and Uncle Larry
are my only relatives on earth and if I don't live with them I'll have
to go to an orphan's home, which I shouldn't like at all. But if you
won't let Uncle Larry keep his job and me, too, of course I'll have to
go. I'll try and not make any noise and be quiet and good if you'll
please let me stay and please, please, I'm getting less of a child
every day. When I came I was going on eleven and now I'm almost going
on twelve, for my birthday is in two months. Aunt Kate doesn't know
I'm writing to you. Neither does Uncle Larry. I thought of it all
myself when I heard Uncle Larry tell Aunt Kate you were going to take
his job away if I lived with them. I know I shouldn't have listened,
but I did. Perhaps you've never been an orphan and don't know what it
means to have all your parents in Heaven when Gladys Evans has
twenty-seven relations here on earth. But I shall be much obliged if
you won't take Uncle Larry's job away from him and if you'll let me
live with him. God bless you and me.
Your obedient servant and friend,
MARY ROSE CROCKER.
It was a long letter and quite covered two sheets of Kewpie paper.
There were many blots and more misspelled words. Mary Rose frowned as
she looked at it. It was the best she could do. She was uncertain how
to get it to the owner and she did not wish to ask her uncle. Mr.
Jerry could tell her. He knew everything. And holding the closely
written sheets in her hand she ran across the alley.
Fortunately Mr. Jerry was alone under the apple tree. She handed him
the letter and watched his face anxiously while he read it.
"Is it all right?" she begged. She had George Washington cuddled in
her arms and hid her face against his soft fur coat as she asked. "I
know the words aren't spelled right but I'm only in the sixth grade.
Perhaps I should have put that in? But is the meaning right?"
Mr. Jerry coughed twice before he answered. "Just right, Mary Rose.
Exactly right! I couldn't have done it better and I've been to
college. Write on the envelope: 'To the Owner of the Washington' and
I'll take it over to the agents myself."
"Oh, will you!" Mary Rose had been puzzled how to get it to the
agents. She decided then and there that she would never be puzzled
over anything again. Mr. Jerry could do everything. First he had
taken her cat and then her dog and her friend from Mifflin and now her
letter. Her heart was filled with a passionate devotion to him as she
laughed tremulously. She was both proud and happy to possess such a
resourceful friend. "Don't you think Mr. Owner sounds a little more
respectful? You see," her voice shook, for it meant so much to her, "I
don't know him at all. I've never had any chance to make friends with
him."
With Mr. Jerry's fountain pen she wrote carefully: "Mr. Owner of the
Washington."
Then she folded the letter smoothly and dropped a kiss on it before she
put it in the envelope.
"Just for friendliness," she said when she met Mr. Jerry's eyes and she
blushed. Even her ears turned into pink roses.
He caught her in his arms and hugged her.
"Mary Rose," he said and his voice was not quite clear, "you're
absolutely the friendliest soul I know!"
"That's what I try to be, Mr. Jerry." Her arm slipped up about his
neck. "Daddy said I was to be friendly and the friendlier I was the
easier it would be."