Gloria and Treeless Street | Page 8

concluded, that gentleman was minded to treat
himself to a little recreation. It was not fair, he said, for the women
folks to have all the fun--they were to turn to now and see that he had
his share. With Gloria's willing aid, he made out a modest little
itinerary that would give them a sight of several places of interest.
"The more the better!" Gloria said. "We're good for any number of 'em,
aren't we, auntie?"
And dear, patient Aunt Em smiled splendidly, and saw the longed-for
arrival home pushed farther away. Gloria was innocently selfish; she

could not have comprehended easily how anyone could help enjoying
this pleasant dallying from place to place.
The trip finally ended several weeks later than was originally planned.
The District Nurse's vacation was dimmed by the many days of hard
work that had succeeded it; by this time it was more a beautiful
memory than a reality. She must have dreamed of sitting lazily rocking,
shut in by a circle of blue hills! So many things can happen to a person
in a matter even of days--when the person is a busy District Nurse, with
a city to take care of.
Gloria, back in her favorite piazza-chair, surveyed the world with
rested vision. Very soon she would take up her adopted worries about
barren streets and rickety houses, but for the moment she would rock
and smooth Abou Ben Adhem's beautiful back.
"You've been lonesome, Old Handsome--needn't tell me! I don't believe
you purred a note while I was gone. And I never missed you, sir!" She
pulled the low, far-set ears gently. "There was a lovely cat at the hotel,"
she added with deliberate malice. "He purred grand operas." But in her
lap the great cat sat unjealously. Gloria's gaze wandered across the
street. She wished she knew which was the District Nurse's window.
"I'd wave you at it, Abou Ben, just to show her I've got home --but
there, she may be district-visiting, and you'd be wasted. We'll watch for
her."
[Illustration: "I'd wave you at it, Abou-Ben."]
At that very moment the District Nurse was in Rose's room helping to
cut out a tiny calico dress. Rose herself was running little sleeves
together in a motherly way.
"Tell me some more," she pleaded. "Is she pretty? Does she do up her
hair? What kind of eyes has she?"
"One at a time! You take my breath away," laughed Miss Winship over
her calico breadths. "Yes, she is pretty--I think you will say so. Her hair?
I'm sure I don't know what kind of hair she has. Now you may begin

again, my dear."
But Rose's eyes were wistfully musing. They were beautiful eyes, but
the rest of Rose, oh, how pinched and meager!
"I kind of thought," Rose said, "I didn't know but--there now, the idea!
Of course I don't want her to be like me!" Rose's voice quivered. "I'd be
ashamed of myself to want her to be like me. I was only thinking, that's
all. It isn't bad to think, is it? And anyway, we're both Rosies, you say.
But they call her Gloria. But she has Rose for one name. I've got that to
be glad of!"
Snip--snip--the scissors cut steadily through the crisp cotton goods.
"Yes, indeed, you've got that!" the District Nurse said with loving
tenderness. She did not look up from her work; at that minute she did
not want to see the small, stunted figure sewing tiny sleeves for
Dinney's baby.

CHAPTER V.
It was a beautiful morning, and Gloria and the cat were occupying the
broad piazza. At last Abou Ben Adhem slid with a soft thud to the
piazza floor. It was his signal that no more petting was desired for the
time. Gloria, too, got out of the big rocker and went into the house.
"Aunt Em, would you want to be a District Nurse and never get home?
I've watched till I'm 'blind of seeing.'"
"It can't be a very desirable position, dear--you won't ever be one, will
you?"
"I'm going to 'be one' to-morrow!" Gloria laughed. "Have to get used to
it, auntie. You can't change my mind--it's set. The next to-morrow that
ever is, I am going to begin!"
"Dear! dear!" sighed Aunt Em. She felt anxious again. Here was the
child back just where she had left off. What good, then, all the traveling

about and the getting tired and hot? A wave of fresh weariness and
travelstrain seemed to sweep over the dear little woman. Close upon it
like a cool breeze came the recollection that in October Gloria would
go back to school. Then, at any rate, this undue, unwelcome fascination
for grimy streets would terminate. It was mid-August now.
The next morning Mrs. McAndrew