The Rosie World

Later, in presenting the case to George himself, Rosie's manner lost its air of Lady Bountiful, and she pleaded Janet's cause with an earnestness for which Janet would have worshipped her.

"Aw, now, Jarge, please! Poor Janet won't be in our way and she would love to be with us. Tom Sullivan don't talk much and he's got red hair, but he's awful nice, really he is. I told you he was trying to get me a ticket before you invited me. And besides, Jarge, if we get tired of them we can give them the slip for a little while."

As soon as Rosie paused for breath, George said: "Of course we'll let Janet and Tom Sullivan come with us if you want them. This is to be your party and you're to have things your own way."

Rosie looked her adoration. "Oh, Jarge, you're just too kind to me, really you are!"

The new dress was a great success. It was a little rosebud dimity, pink and pale green, which Ellen designed in pretty summer fashion to make the most of Rosie's well-turned little arms and graceful neck. On a ten-cent bargain counter Ellen had found a hat of yellow straw which was just the thing to shape into a little bonnet and trim with a wreath of pink rosebuds and two soft green streamers which hung down on either side.

Ellen planned and worked and was happier than Rosie herself over each new effect. Mrs. O'Brien, hovering about, beamed with approval.

"Ellen's an artist with her needle," she declared over and over again. "She is indeed. How she does remind me of me own poor dead sister Birdie! There was a milliner in Dublin would have give her two eyes to get Birdie into her shop."

Mrs. O'Brien was right. Ellen was an artist with her needle and took all an artist's joy in her own creation. As she worked on Rosie's costume, she showed none of that impatient, overbearing selfishness which marked her so disagreeably at other times, but was gentle, frank, and affectionate. Once when she pricked Rosie's shoulders by accident she kissed the hurt away, and Rosie, surprised and touched, threw her arms impulsively about her neck.

"Why can't you always be like this to me, Ellen? I'd just love you dearly if you were."

Ellen laughed a little shamefacedly. "Ain't I nice all the time, Rosie? Well, I'm afraid it's that old business college. It gets on my nerves. I suppose I ought to be studying now, but I'm not going to. I'm not going to stop until I finish this for you."

On the afternoon of the picnic, Ellen was so proud of Rosie's appearance that for once she forgot her haughtiness to George Riley. "Now tell the truth, George, aren't you glad it's Rosie instead of me?"

George gave Ellen one sick look, gulped, then said bravely: "Rosie sure is mighty pretty!"

"Pretty? I should say she is! See her now. Don't she look like a little flower – a sweet-pea or something? And do you know, George, if I was to dress that way, with my size and my height, I'd look like a guy! Yes, I would."

CHAPTER XI

THE TRACTION BOYS' PICNIC

They started off in time to make the half-past-five boat. George was at his dressiest, so close-shaven that he looked almost skinned and resplendent in new tan shoes, green socks, a red tie, and a pink shirt. It was a striking combination of colour and one that made Ellen clutch at her mother in despair. George carried a shoe-box of sandwiches, for Rosie, always a thrifty little housewife, insisted that whatever money they had to spend was not going for the commonplace necessaries of life.

Janet McFadden and Tom Sullivan, with a similar shoe-box, were waiting for them at the corner. Janet, in her old black sailor hat, looked dreadfully neat and clean, but for some reason even dingier than usual. It was Janet's first view of Rosie's finery. Shaking her head slowly, she gazed at Rosie several moments before she spoke. Then she said:

"Well, Rosie O'Brien, I must say you certainly do look elegant!"

Tom Sullivan was so flustered by the close vision of Rosie's loveliness that, when he opened his mouth to say something, he could only splutter unintelligibly and then blush furiously at his own embarrassment.

It is surprising, when one stops to think about it, how delightful a mere street-car ride downtown really is. As Rosie sat there with her plain but faithful friend on one side – hereafter she must always try to be especially kind and gentle to Janet – and on the other her sporty, grown-up escort, she had one of those rare moments of perfect content and happiness. Old gentlemen smiled at her absent-mindedly as she brushed aside the green streamers which the wind was forever blowing across her face; young girls examined her critically; a mother across the way distracted the attention of a weeping child by pointing her finger and saying: "Oh, Eddy, look over there at that pretty little girl! She's lookin' straight at you, and what'll she say if she sees you cryin'!"… It was really a lovely, lovely world, and Rosie honestly and truly hoped that everybody in it was happy.

They reached the boat at that delightful moment when the bell is ringing and the deckhands are threatening to pull in the gang-plank in spite of the rushing crowds still arriving. By the time they had pushed their way to the upper deck, the gang-plank was in, the band was striking up a gay march, and with a lurch and a turn the Island Princess was off.

"O-oh!" murmured Rosie happily, and Janet demanded tensely, of no one in particular: "Isn't this just grand!"

Mothers and wives bustled about to get folding chairs and campstools, but the young folk, scorning so soon to sit down, promenaded arm in arm. Tucking Rosie's hand under his elbow, George joined the ranks of the promenaders, and Janet and Tom Sullivan followed his lead at a respectful distance.

At the stern, seated off by themselves, was a group of picnickers who hailed George as an old friend and waved at him inviting arms and handkerchiefs.

"Let's go over and say 'Howdy,'" George suggested.

There were some ten of them, girls and young fellows about George's own age. George took off his hat to them all and, with a flourish, presented Rosie.

"Ladies and gentlemen, allow me to introduce to you my lady friend, Miss Rosie O'Brien. Rosie, won't you shake hands with my friend, Mr. Callahan, and Miss Higgins, and Miss McCarthy, and Miss Mahony, …"

Rosie, feeling eighteen years old and perfectly beautiful, went the rounds to an enchanting chorus of, "Pleased to know you, Miss O'Brien," "You sweet little thing!" "Excuse me, Miss Rosie, but I must say George Riley knows how to pick out a pretty girl!.."

George then presented Janet, and Janet, too, went the rounds, looking like a sleep-walker with tight-set muscles and staring eyes.

"And this," concluded George, giving Tom Sullivan a little push, "is Matt Sullivan's boy. You fellows all know Matt – he's on the East End run."

With blinking eyes and a crimson embarrassment that mounted to ears and scalp, Tom passed about a nerveless, sodden hand.

After a few more pleasantries, George, gathering together his forces, flourished his hat and said: "Well, so long, friends! See you later."

"Weren't they nice!" Rosie remarked enthusiastically, and Janet, in humble gratitude, said: "That was awful kind of you, Mr. Riley, introducing Tom and me."

"Kind nuthin'!" George declared. "Aren't you my friends, I'd like to know? Aren't all Rosie's friends my friends?"

Unable to express in words how deeply moved she was by the loftiness and nobility of this sentiment, Janet could only look at Rosie, sigh gloomily, and shake her head.

They ate their little picnic supper as soon as they landed, topped off with ice-cream, and then, unencumbered with shoe-boxes, sought out the allurements of sideshows, aërial and subterranean thrillers, and dancing pavilion. Rosie insisted that they go into nothing that cost over ten cents. By adopting this principle and making frequent excursions to the dancing pavilion, which was free, they were so well able to husband their resources that George's two dollars and Tom Sullivan's fifty cents carried them through the evening.

It seemed to Rosie she had never enjoyed so perfect a picnic. All the thrillers really thrilled. Capitana, the giantess snake-charmer, was actually a giantess, and the snakes she wound about her fat neck were fully as long and as spotted and as green as the posters made out. And so on through everything they tried.

"I've never had such a good time in my life!" Rosie declared, as they hurried off to the ten-o'clock boat.

"Me, too!" gasped Janet in solemn, sepulchral tones.

Looking at the strained expression of happiness on Janet's face, Rosie suddenly thought of something new that would fittingly crown the day's adventures. Out of her own abundance she would give Janet another crumb that would make her eternally grateful.

"Say, Jarge," she whispered coaxingly, "will you do something for me?"

George looked down at her indulgently. "Of course I will. Anything you want."

"Well then, listen, Jarge: Will you take Janet all the way home and be real nice to her and pretend she's your girl and pet her real, real hard. Nobody ever pets Janet, and she never has a good time except when she's with me. And I'll take Tom Sullivan."

George laughed a good-natured "All right," and Rosie, turning around, said to Janet: "Jarge don't want me any more, do you, Jarge? He wants you, Janet, don't you, Jarge, want Janet? So will you let Tom Sullivan take me?"

"Oh, Rosie!" Janet threw incredulous eyes to heaven and clutched her hands together in a joy that was serious as grief.

Rosie pushed her up to George and George, capturing her cold fingers, drew them through his arm. Then Rosie, glowing all over in virtuous self-approval, dropped behind with Tom Sullivan.

CHAPTER XII

THE LOAN OF A GENTLEMAN FRIEND

The wives and mothers, with sleepy, crying children, cluttered up the lower decks. The young people by some common instinct seemed all to be drawn to the quiet and moonlight of the upper deck. There Rosie's party found them, a thousand couples more or less, each couple sitting somewhat apart from its neighbours, but frightfully close to itself.

"I suppose they're all engaged," Rosie remarked to Tom Sullivan, and even in the moonlight Tom blushed furiously.