Mary Rose of Mifflin | Page 2

piano an' Mrs. Matchan kicks on Mrs. Rawson's
sewin' machine. Mr. Jarvis never gets his newspaper an' Mrs. Lewis
al'ys gets two. Mrs. Willoughby jumps on me if a pin drops in the hall.
She can't stand no noise since her mother died. She don't do nothin' but
cry. I don't blame her man for stayin' away. I'd as soon be married to a
fountain. When they can't find anythin' else to jaw me about they take
the laundries. An' selfish! There isn't one can see beyond the reach of
his fingers. I used to think that folks were put into the world to be
friendly an' helpful to each other but I've learned different." He sighed
and shook his head helplessly. "Mrs. Bracken on the first floor has
lived here as long as we have, two years nex' October, an' I've yet to

hear her give a friendly word to anyone in the house. When little Miss
Smith up on the third was sick las' winter did her nex' door neighbor
lend a hand? She did not. She was just worried stiff for fear she'd catch
somethin'. She gave me no peace till Miss Smith was out of the house
an' into a hospital. Peace! I've forgot there was such a word. They won't
stand for any kid in the house when the lease says no childern, no dogs
an' no cats."
"You can't tell me anythin' about them!" Mrs. Donovan agreed with
pleasant promptness. It is always agreeable to have one's estimate of
human nature endorsed. "An' the most of 'em look like thunder clouds
when you meet 'em. Ain't it queer, Larry, how few folks look happy
when a smile's 'bout the cheapest thing a body can wear? An' it never
goes out of style. I know I never get tired seein' one on old or young.
All folks can't be rich nor han'some but most of us could look pleasant
if we thought so, seems if. I want to tell that to little Miss Macy every
time I see her, but I know full well she'd say I was impudent, so I keep
my mouth shut. Maybe the tenants won't stand for a child in the house.
They haven't wit to see that the Lord had his good reasons when he
invented the fam'ly. But there's some way. There must be! An' we've
got to find it, Larry Donovan. Are you goin' to wash Mrs. Rawson's
windows today?" She changed the subject abruptly. "She called me up
twice yesterday to see they needed it, as if I had nothin' to do but
traipse aroun' after her."
Larry understood exactly how she felt. He had been called up more
than twice to see the windows and had promised to clean them within
twenty-four hours. Before he went away he patted his wife's shoulder
and said again: "It isn't that I don't want the little thing here, Kate. She'd
be good for both of us. It's bad for folks to grow old 'thout young ones
growin' up around 'em, but a job's a job. It wouldn't be easy for a man
to get another as good as this at this time of year. See the home it gives
you."
He looked proudly around the pleasant basement living-room. Open
doors led into the dining-room and hall from which more doors opened
into kitchen and sleeping-rooms. There was a small room at the end of

the hall in which Mrs. Donovan kept her sewing machine but for which,
in the last twenty-four hours, she had found another use. The apartment
was very comfortable and Mrs. Donovan kept it as neat as wax. There
was never any dust on her floors if the fault-finding tenants did say
there was in the halls.
Mrs. Donovan was proud of her home also, but she frowned as she
glanced about her. "There's plenty of room for one more," she
grumbled. "That little room beyond ours is just the place for a child.
But go on, Larry, we'll think of a way. We've got to! It shan't ever be
said that Kate Donovan turned away her only sister's only child. Do
you mind when Mary married Sam Crocker? It was thought to be a big
step up for the daughter of an Irish carpenter to marry a Crocker, the
son of ol' Judge Crocker an' a lawyer himself. Seems if there never was
a prettier girl than Mary an' she was happy till she died. An' now Sam's
dead, too. He wasn't the man his father was. He couldn't keep money
an' he couldn't earn it. Mary used to feel sorry for me, Larry, because
you weren't a Crocker, but if she could see us now an', seems if, I
believe she can, she mus' be glad