Gloria and Treeless Street | Page 4

fingers. Gloria wondered why she did not
draw away, but stood still instead.
"Are youse a doctor-woman? W'ere's yer bag? Yer ain't t'rew yer bag
away?"

Illustrat[ion: "And who is Rosy?"]
"Huh! She ain't no doctor-woman." This from Dinney, who had the
advantage of early acquaintance. "She's on'y a cuttin' roun' de street.
Youse better not be smudgin' up her dress, Carrots--gwan off, now! All
o' youse gwan an' let de lady 'lone. Me 'n' Hunkie's de on'y ones as she
wants roun'."
Dinney and Hunkie escorted Gloria to the end of the street and back.
Gloria returned on the opposite side with the idea of more thoroughly
exploring. But she might as well have kept to the one side; both sides
were alike in tenements and children--dreariness and poverty. There
was no choice. It was with a long breath of relief that Gloria emerged
again upon the main street. She filled her lungs with the cleaner air, and
gazed with a new admiration at the well-to-do buildings.
The grotesque little figure of Dinney tramping back into Treeless Street
with his rattling cart lurching behind him, was all that remained of what
seemed to Gloria now must have been a dream. She glanced up at the
street's name, at its juncture with the main street, and started suddenly,
in very astonishment. The name she read pointed playful, jeering letters
at her. She had always known there was a street in Tilford by that
name--but not this, this street! Pleasant Street! Gloria walked the rest of
the way as in a dream.
* * * * *
"Uncle Em, aren't tenements unsafe to live in," Gloria asked at supper,
"when they lean every which way? Oughtn't there to be a law to tear
them down?" Gloria was too intent on her own musings to intercept the
swift glance her guardian gave her.
"Supposing one tumbled down, with little children in it and outside it!
What did they name that awful street Pleasant Street for?"
Aunt Em's comely face wore a queer expression. She began to speak,
then stopped.

"Don't you want to hear what kind of a runabout I ordered on the way
home, Rosy-Posie?" What freak of fate made Uncle Em call her
Rosy-Posie? Gloria winced as if with pain at thought of the girl
Rosie--with eyes like hers--on Treeless Street.
"There's a girl named Rosie with eyes like mine, on Pleasant Street!"
she cried. "A boy told me so. I hate that street!" She got up suddenly
and went away.
The two left behind exchanged glances. Aunt Em's eyes were troubled.
"Walter, whatever started the child up to go round exploring streets?"
she said.
"Goodness knows! But don't get worked up over nothing."
"Poor child--you know I've always felt just the way she does, Walter."
Aunt Em's gentle sigh came once more.
The next morning Aunt Em appeared in Gloria's room before that
leisurely young person had decided to get up. She was lying in one of
the pleasant intervals between dozes, drowsily conscious that the
sunshine was streaming across her feet in a warm flood, and that
somewhere children were playing.
'"Lazy girl!" cried Aunt Em in the door. The lazy girl turned without
surprise. She was used to early visits. "Perhaps you might like to know
the time of day--"
"Oh, say it's 'most bedtime, auntie, then I won't have to get up at all!"
"Nine o'clock!"
Gloria laughed. "Call that late! Why, it might be ten, eleven, twelve!
Besides, I had to make up for my nightmares--auntie, I spent nearly all
night walking up Treeless Street. I couldn't get out; I thought I'd got to
stay there always. The little ragamuffins wouldn't any of them tell me
the way out, not even Dinney. I wouldn't have believed it of Dinney!"

Aunt Em's face smiled down at the girl among the tumbled pillows.
"Poor dear! You have so many troubles!" Aunt Em sympathized in
gentle irony.
Gloria sat up straight. "You're making fun! Well, I don't suppose I can
complain. It isn't to be wondered at that you can't believe I'd be
troubled at other folks' troubles. Honest, auntie, I never was till
yesterday on that street!"
"Aren't you ever going to talk about anything else, Rosy-Posie?"
"Don't say 'Rosy,' or you'll set me off again! I won't mention it again
to-day if you'll promise to go down there with me some day, Aunt Em.
If you won't, I shall go with the District Nurse. I'm going into one of
those houses and see if it feels as bad as it looks."
"You can't go very soon, my dear, for we are going out West with
Uncle Walter to-night."
"Auntie!--honest?" Gloria was on her feet in a sudden access of energy.
Drowsiness and laziness were past things. The trips that