That very afternoon Mr. Jerry and Mary Rose bought a canary for Becky
and paid for it with the five-dollar bill that Mr. Wells had given Mary
Rose. Mr. Jerry insisted that that particular bill should have been
framed and Mary Rose insisted that Mr. Wells had said it was to buy a
canary. She could not understand why Mr. Jerry had laughed nor why he
said: "Oh, very well. But honestly, Mary Rose, it should be framed."
He took Mary Rose and the new canary in his car to the flat-building
that allowed children to live in it. Becky wept with joy when she was
told that the bird was to be her own. John was at home and he blushed
and stammered as he tried to explain to Mr. Jerry that he hadn't meant
any harm to anyone, cross his heart if he had! but as soon as he saw
Jenny Lind he had thought what company she would be for Becky. And Mr.
Jerry kindly said he understood perfectly and that if John ever wanted
any advice or help he was to come straight to him.
"You see it's a very friendly house," Mary Rose whispered as she and
Mr. Jerry went down the long flights of stairs. "See how many children
there are!"
Mr. Jerry looked about him. There were, indeed, many children of
assorted nationalities and sizes. There could not have been a greater
contrast to the orderly and clean, if childless, Washington.
"It's undoubtedly friendly, Mary Rose," agreed Mr. Jerry. "And there
are lots of children but there are also lots of smells."
She crinkled her small nose. "I expect that's Russian," she suggested.
On their way home they passed Bingham and Henderson's big jam factory
and Mary Rose caught a glimpse of Miss Thorley waiting for a street
car. When she called Mr. Jerry's attention to the enchanted princess
he deftly inserted his automobile between Miss Thorley and the
approaching car.
"Room for one more passenger here," he said with a grin. "And the fare
will be even cheaper."
"Do come with us, Miss Thorley!" begged Mary Rose. "See, here's Jenny
Lind. You'll want to speak to her. And there's such lots of room
right here with us. Isn't there, Mr. Jerry?"
"Scads of room. I don't see how you can hesitate." And he looked at
the crowded street car where people were standing on the platform and
the conductor was calling impatiently: "Move up in front!"
Miss Thorley looked also. The street car was not so inviting as the
automobile. Prejudiced as she was she had to admit that. She laughed.
"Oh, very well," she said.
Mr. Jerry jumped out and triumphantly robbed the street car company of
a fare. He helped Miss Thorley in beside Mary Rose and Jenny Lind.
"You see there's lots of room," Mary Rose fairly bubbled with joy.
"Just as Mr. Jerry said. Aren't you glad to see Jenny Lind again? I
can't see that she has changed a feather."
"We'll leave her at the house and then run out to Nokomis for a breath
of air. That friendly flat of the Paulovitch's has almost strangled
me. I have a great yearning for wide open spaces," Mr. Jerry told Miss
Thorley over Mary Rose's head.
They left Jenny Lind with Aunt Kate and drove along the boulevards and
around the lake.
"Isn't it a beautiful world?" asked Mary Rose suddenly. "I just love
it and everybody in it! Don't you, Mr. Jerry?"
"I won't go so far as to say I love everybody but I certainly do love
you, Mary Rose," he told her with pleasing promptness.
"And Miss Thorley, too?" demanded Mary Rose, jealously afraid that Miss
Thorley might feel hurt if she were excluded from Mr. Jerry's
affections. "She's the enchanted princess, you know," she reminded him
in a whisper. "You must love her."
Mr. Jerry was so silent that Mary Rose pinched his arm.
"Sure, I love Miss Thorley," he said then, very hurriedly.
"And she loves you, don't you, Miss Thorley?" Mary Rose pinched Miss
Thorley's arm to remind her that something was expected of her, also.
There was a longer pause. Mary Rose had to pinch Miss Thorley's arm a
second time and Mr. Jerry, himself, had to ask her in a funny shaky
sort of a voice:
"Do you, Bess? Do you?"
Miss Thorley tried to frown and look away but she was not able to take
her eyes from the two faces, the man's and the little girl's, which
looked at her with such imploring eagerness. And what she saw in those
two faces made her heart give a great throb. In a flash she knew, and
knew beyond a doubt, that at last she could answer the question that
had been tormenting her for over half a year. Long, long before that
she had learned that everything one has in this world must be paid for
and the question that had caused her to lose her red "corpuskles" had
been whether she was willing to pay the price or whether she would go
without the love and happiness and companionship that were offered to
her.
She flushed adorably as she met Mr. Jerry's anxious eyes. "I--I don't
want to," she said with rueful honesty and then the words came in a
hurried rush, "But I'm--I'm afraid I do! It's all your fault, Mary
Rose." And she hid her pink cheeks in Mary Rose's yellow hair.
"My fault!" Mary Rose was surprised and puzzled and a wee bit hurt.
She did not understand how she could be to blame.
But Mr. Jerry understood and with a quick exclamation he stopped the
car. And there, behind a great clump of tall lilac bushes, he put his
arms around them both. He kissed them both, too, Mary Rose first and
hurriedly and then Miss Thorley, second and lingeringly.
"You dear--you darling!" he said to Miss Thorley and his breath came
quickly and his eyes shone. He kissed her again. "You dearest! I've
been the most patient lover on the footstool. Thank God, I was patient
and just wouldn't be discouraged!"
Mary Rose caught his sleeve. "Are you the prince, Mr. Jerry?" she
wanted to know and her eyes shone, too. "And is the spell broken?
Have you driven away the old witch Independence? What did it?"
Mr. Jerry smiled at her flushed face. His own face was flushed and it
had a wonderful radiance to Mary Rose as she looked up at him. "Love
did it, Mary Rose." He squeezed her hand. "Love for you and love for
me. Love's the only thing that can break old Independence's spell."
"Independence isn't a wicked witch, Mary Rose," interrupted Miss
Thorley, who was squeezing Mary Rose's other hand.
"Isn't she?" Mary Rose was doubtful. Mr. Jerry had said she was a most
wicked witch.
"A wicked witch would never make a girl brave and strong and self----"
"Self-supporting like George Washington," Mary Rose broke in jubilantly.
"Self-supporting," Miss Thorley accepted the word with a smile, "and
keep her safe and busy until her prince came and she could be a real
help to him. Independence isn't a wicked witch, Mary Rose. She's a
girl's good fairy."
"Is she, Mr. Jerry?" Mary Rose had to have that theory indorsed before
she could be quite sure. "Is she?"
"I expect she is," Mr. Jerry handsomely admitted. "Perhaps I've been
mistaken in the old girl. Anyway we're friends now, good friends.
And, Mary Rose," he went on grandly, "ask me what you will and you
shall have it, even to the half of my kingdom. I can't give you the
whole of it because the other half, the half that includes me, is now
the property of the most beautiful princess in the world."
The most beautiful princess in the world laughed in a funny choked sort
of a way and she hugged Mary Rose. "You see, honey girl," she said,
and Mary Rose loved her voice now that the enchantment was broken and
she could hear how soft and sweet it was, "we own him together, you and
I."
Mary Rose looked at their joint property with awe and admiration. "Do
we?" It scarcely seemed possible. "Aren't we the lucky girls!"