The Rosie World

"Is he a sport, Ellen?" Terry asked.

"He's certainly an elegant dresser, if that's what you mean. Just you wait and see."

Friday's letter put Ellen into something of a flurry.

"Ma, Harry thinks it would be awful nice if you would invite him to supper tomorrow night. He's coming to the shop in the morning. Then he'll take me out to lunch and we'll go somewheres in the afternoon, and he wants to know if we can't come back here for supper. He thinks that would be a good way for him to meet the whole family."

"Mercy on us!" Mrs. O'Brien wailed. "With all I've got to do, how can I get up a fine supper for a sporty young gent like Mr. Harry? Can't you keep him out, Ellen? I don't see why he's got to meet the family. We're just like any other family: a father, a mother, and five children."

"But, Ma, he makes such a point of it. I don't see how we can refuse. Besides, you know he's been pretty nice to me taking me out to dinner and things."

"If he was only Jarge Riley now," Mrs. O'Brien mused, "I wouldn't mind him at all, at all, for he wouldn't be a bit of trouble. Poor Jarge was always just like one of the family, wasn't he?"

Ellen drew her mother back to the subject of the moment. "So can I tell him to come?"

Mrs. O'Brien sighed. "Oh, I suppose so. That is, if Rosie'll help me. I tell you frankly, Ellen, I simply can't manage it alone."

Mrs. O'Brien called Rosie to get the promise of her assistance. Rosie listened quietly, then, instead of answering her mother, she turned to her sister.

"Ellen, I want to know one thing: Have you told this Harry about Jarge Riley?"

Ellen frowned. "I don't see what that's got to do with tomorrow's supper."

Rosie took a deep breath. "It's got a lot to do with it if I'm going to help."

For a moment the sisters measured each other in silence. Then Ellen broke out petulantly:

"Well, then, Miss Busybody, if you've got to know, I haven't! And, what's more, I'm not going to!"

"You're not going to, eh? We'll see about that." Rosie turned to her mother. "Ma, I'll help you tomorrow night. We'll have a good supper. But I want to give you both fair warning: if Ellen don't tell this Harry about Jarge Riley, I will! She's trying to make a goat of both of them and I'm not going to stand for it."

"Ma!" screamed Ellen, "are you going to let her meddle with my affairs like that? You make her mind her own business!"

"Rosie dear," begged Mrs. O'Brien, "don't go excitin' your poor sister Ellen by any such foolish threats. You'd only be causin' trouble, Rosie, and I'm sure you don't want to do that. And, Ellen dear, don't raise your voice. The neighbours will hear you."

"I don't care!" Ellen shouted. "She's nothing but George's little watch-dog, and I tell you I'm not going to stand it!"

"Perhaps, Ellen dear," Mrs. O'Brien ventured timidly, "it might be just as well if you did tell him about Jarge."

Ellen burst into tears. "You're all against me, every one of you – that's what you are! You're so afraid I'll have a good time! Isn't George coming on Thanksgiving and aren't we to be married in the spring? I should think that would suit you! But, no, you've got to spoil my fun now and it's a mean shame – that's what it is!"

"Ah, now, Ellen dear, don't you cry!" Mrs. O'Brien implored. "I'm sure Rosie is not going to interfere, are you, Rosie?"

Rosie regarded her sister's tears unmoved. "I'm going to do exactly what I say I am, and Ellen knows I am."

Ellen straightened herself with a shake. "Very well," she said shortly. "I guess I can be mean, too! You just wait!"

CHAPTER XL

MR. HARRY LONG EXPLAINS

Rosie was more than true to her promise. She prepared a good supper and, in addition, made the kitchen neat and presentable, scrubbed Jack until his skin and hair fairly shone with cleanliness, and, long before supper time, had Mrs. O'Brien and Geraldine, both in holiday attire, seated in state on the front porch to receive Ellen and her admirer.

When Jack, who was perched on the front gate as family lookout, saw them coming, he rushed back to the kitchen to give Rosie warning and Rosie had time to slip behind the front door and, through the crack, to witness the arrival.

"And, Ellen dear," Mrs. O'Brien exclaimed in greeting, "do you mean to tell me that this is your friend, Mr. Harry Long! If I do say it, Mr. Long, I'm mighty pleased to see you! As I've said to Ellen, many's the time, 'Why don't you bring your friend out to see me? Bring him any time,' says I, 'for the friends of me children are always welcome in this house.' And himself says the same thing, Mr. Long."

The florid well-built young man who gave Rosie the impression of bright tan shoes, gray spats, a fancy vest, and massive watchfob, waited, smiling, until Mrs. O'Brien was done and then remarked in friendly, cordial tones: "Just call me Harry, Mrs. O'Brien. I'm plain Harry to my friends."

"Well, I'm sure you're among friends when you're here," Mrs. O'Brien said with a downcast look of melting coyness. "But I fear you won't think so if I keep you standing much longer. Won't you sit down, Mr. – I mean, won't you sit down, Harry? You see, Harry," she continued, "I'm taking you at your word. And now I must introduce Jackie to you. Jackie's me second b'y. Now, Jackie dear, shake hands with Mr. Long and tell him you're glad to see him. The baby's name, Harry, is Geraldine. Besides her, I've got Terence who's a fine lad – oh, I know you'll be glad to meet Terry! – and Rosie who's next to Terry and who's helping me with the supper tonight so's to give me a chance to say 'How do you do' to you. Ah, if I do say it, I've a fine brood of children and never a word of bickering among them… Now, Jackie dear, like a good b'y, will you run upstairs and tell your da to come down this minute, that we're waiting for him, and then run into the kitchen and ask sister Rosie if the supper's ready."

Rosie slipped hurriedly back to the kitchen and then, through Jack, summoned the family in.

When she was presented to the newcomer, she added to her first impressions the smooth pinkish face of a city-bred man who had never been exposed to the real violence of sun and wind, a cravat pin and seal ring that were fellows to the watchfob, and hands that bore themselves as if a little conscious of a recent visit to the manicure.

As Rosie gathered in these details, she saw, in contrast, the figure of George Riley: the roughened weatherbeaten face, the cheap ill-fitting clothes, the big hands coarsened with work, the heavy feet. Ellen, of course, and girls like Ellen would be taken in by the new man's flashy appearance and easy confident manner, but not Rosie. Rosie hated him on sight! She knew the difference between tinsel and solid worth and she longed to cry out to him: "You needn't think you can fool me, because you can't! Any one can dress well who spends all he makes on clothes! But how much money have you got salted away in the bank? Tell me that, now!"

She had to shake hands with him, but when he stooped down to kiss her, she jerked away and glared at him like an angry little cat.

"Why, Rosie!" Mrs. O'Brien exclaimed in shocked tones, "is that the way you treat a family friend like Mr. Harry?"

"Family friend!" stormed Rosie; "I've never laid eyes on him before and neither have you!"

Mrs. O'Brien's embarrassment deepened. "Rosie, I'm ashamed of you! Is that the way for you to be treatin' a gentleman who's taking supper with us? I tell you frankly I'm ashamed of you!"

Jamie O'Brien cleared his throat. "See here, Maggie, Rosie's perfectly right. There's no call for her to be kissing a stranger. She's too big a girl for that."

Mrs. O'Brien looked at her husband blankly. "Jamie O'Brien, how you talk! Do you think it's becoming to call a man a stranger who's sitting down with you at your own table?"

Jamie turned to his guest politely. "I'm sure, Mr. Long, I don't know what all this noise is about. I'm like Rosie here. I've never seen you before to me knowledge. But that's neither here nor there. You're here now and you're welcome, and I hope we'll be friends. So let us drop the argument and sit down."

It was an awkward beginning, but Jamie refused to be embarrassed and, after a moment of silence, the others tried hard to follow his example.

Harry was evidently bent on pleasing.

"Ever been in St. Louis, Mr. O'Brien?" He spoke with a proprietorial air as one might of a household pet, pronouncing the name of his city Louie. "Fine place, St. Louie!"

"For meself," Jamie answered unexpectedly, "I never much cared for it. It's a hot hole!"

Ellen flushed. "Why, Dad!"

Jamie looked up impatiently. "What's the matter now?"

"Dad, don't you know that St. Louie is where Harry lives?"

"I do not!" Jamie answered truthfully. "And, if you ask me, Ellen, I don't see why I should."

"Jamie O'Brien!" Mrs. O'Brien gasped, "what's come over you? I haven't heard you talk so much at table in ten years!" She turned to her guest. "Would you believe me, Harry, there are weeks on end when I never get a word out of him! Sometimes I think I'll forget how to talk meself for lack of some one to exchange a word with! And to think," she concluded, "that Jamie's been in St. Louie! I give you me word of honour I never heard that before! Tell me, Jamie, when was it?"