Mary Rose of Mifflin | Page 7

best to find an excuse for the unknown owner. "He doesn't know, of course. He's probably a cross old bachelor."
"But I'm a child," wailed Mary Rose suddenly. "Wha-what are you going to do with me?" Her face whitened.
Her aunt put her hand under the little chin and turned Mary Rose's startled face up so that the two pairs of eyes looked directly into each other. "You're not a child, Mary Rose. You're a great big girl goin' on fourteen. Don't ever forget that. If anyone asks you how old you are you just tell 'em you're goin' on fourteen. That's what you are, you know."
"Yes," doubtfully. "But I have to go to eleven first and then to twelve and thirteen----"
"Waloo folks don't care about that," her aunt interrupted quickly. "They don't care to hear about any but the fourteen. Don't you ever forget."
"I won't," promised Mary Rose solemnly, too puzzled just then to think it out. "But what about George Washington? He's just a cat." She looked dubiously at George Washington and shook her head. Nothing could be made of him but a cat. "An orphan cat!" she added firmly.
"I know, dearie." Aunt Kate's arms tightened around her. "An' I hate to ask you to give him up. I know you love him but if you keep him here it may mean that your uncle will lose his job an' if he did that there wouldn't be any roof over our heads nor bread for our stomachs."
"Oh!" Mary Rose stared at her. "Would that cross old bachelor owner make him not be janitor?"
Her aunt nodded. "We'll have to find someone to take care of him--just for a while," she added quickly as she saw two big tears in Mary Rose's blue eyes. "Some day, please God, we'll have a home where we can have him with us."
Mary Rose stood very still, trying in vain to understand this strange world to which she had come, a world where children and cats and dogs were not considered precious and desirable. Suddenly a bell rang.
"That's Mrs. Rawson," murmured Aunt Kate. "I'll bet she wants me to run up an' look at her windows again. I'll be right back, Mary Rose," she promised as she hurried away to answer the insistent jangle of Mrs. Rawson's bell.
CHAPTER III
Left alone, Mary Rose caught George Washington to her heart and stood staring about the room. She shook her head. This might be a beautiful palace but she was very much afraid that she was not going to like it. She walked slowly into the next room and then to the kitchen, whose windows faced the alley.
Across the driveway she could see a broad open space, the yard of a rambling old-fashioned house. A man was cleaning an automobile and through the open window Mary Rose could hear his cheery whistle. There was something about the old-fashioned house and the spacious yard that reminded Mary Rose of Mifflin, where people loved children and had pets. The puzzled frown left her face, and clutching George Washington closer she went out of the back door and across the alley.
"If you please," she said, her heart beating so fast that she was almost choked, "would you take a cat to board?"
She had to say it a second time before the man heard her. He looked up in surprise. He had a frank, pleasant face with twinkling eyes and Mary Rose liked him at once.
"Hullo, brother," he said, quite as cordially as a Mifflin man would have spoken. "And where did you drop from?"
"I didn't drop," answered literal Mary Rose. "I came across the alley," and she nodded toward the big apartment house. It now turned a white brick face to her. Mary Rose almost forgot her errand when she saw that. In Mifflin houses were the same color all the way around. "Why--why, it's two-faced!" she cried. "The front is all red and now the back is all white. It's just like an enchanted palace."
"It is an enchanted palace," grumbled the man.
Mary Rose flew to his side. "Oh, is there a princess there? A beautiful princess?" she begged.
The man colored under the tan the sun and wind had spread over his face. "There is," he admitted, "a most beautiful princess."
"And a witch?" insisted Mary Rose. "A wicked witch?" The color flew into her face also.
"The wickedest witch that could ever enslave a beautiful princess. Her darned old name is Independence!"
Mary Rose did not understand and she thought it was an odd name for a witch but she wished to know more. "And is the prince there?" she demanded thirstily.
The man's face turned redder than before. "The prince is here," he said sadly. "Right here. And he might as well be in Jericho," he added under his breath.
"I've heard the Presbyterian minister